


their hearts grew cold. they let their wings down.

by Raptorusrex



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Cliches Galore, Drama, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hades - Freeform, Hades and Persephone, Neither did Hades, Persephone - Freeform, Persephone didn't sign up for this shit, Romance, maybe? idk, we'll see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-04-25 23:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 68,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raptorusrex/pseuds/Raptorusrex
Summary: Hades is a grumpy, sarcastic know-it-all who prefers the company of the dead to his own family.Persephone is a sweet, down-to-earth college student who is failing her degree.When the meddling Goddess of Love makes Hades fall for Persephone, chaos ensues. There are awkward encounters, huge misunderstandings, and enough drama to make every other god in existence cringe. It's not a relationship that should work. But it does, in its weird way. Especially when some unfriendly visitors come stirring the pot.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Guess who wrote a modern retelling of a Greek myth when they should be working on their actual college assignments? You guessed it!
> 
> In this chapter: Aphrodite is a meddlesome love goddess who really ought to mind her own business.

Aphrodite and Eros were hiding in a bush, and it was surprisingly not the weirdest thing that had happened that day. They had been waiting for around an hour now, Eros quivering with smug excitement, and Aphrodite with foreboding. It was a stupid bet. She shouldn’t have made it. But damn it, what kind of goddess would she be if she let her own son be right?  


“Regretting anything, Mother dearest?” asked Eros, smirking so widely, Aphrodite felt inclined to punch him. “There’s still time to back out, you know.”  


Aphrodite growled in response. “I’m not backing out. We’re doing this.”  


Eros grinned. “Last chance.”  


“I said we’re doing this.”  


His grin widened, but he didn’t say anything more. Aphrodite peered out at the street again, eyes searching for a victim. Her bow felt heavier than usual in her hands, the wood fitting badly in her sweating palms. Stupid, stupid Aphrodite—why had she done it, why couldn’t she just keep her mouth shut? What if someone ridiculous walked past her now? What if it was Zeus? Hera would murder her, and even Aphrodite would think it was deserved.  
It had been an hour since the bet had been made. Eros had been complaining about love again, saying he had failed at making someone fall in love for the third time that week. _People just don’t believe in love anymore _, he’d lamented, lounging lazily on the loveseat in her office with his hands folded over his stomach. _It’s dying out _.____  


Like the fool she was, Aphrodite had bragged, “I can make anyone fall in love with a single arrow from my bow. Anyone in the universe.”  


And Eros had taken her up on it. _Go on, then. Shoot the first person who walks down the street, and if they fall in love with someone, I’ll take it all back. If not, you’ll have to issue a public apology about the death of romance _.__  


She had accepted, of course. She never turned down a bet.  


Now she was sitting in a bush beside her son, who looked so smug, she was genuinely considering throwing him into a river somewhere. He’d survive. They were gods, after all.  


“Heads up,” Eros whispered. “I think I see someone coming.”  


_Oh, great _, Aphrodite thought.__  


“Showtime,” Eros said.  


Aphrodite nocked an arrow, pointing it directly in front of her, waiting for the right moment. She waited, and waited, and waited. And finally, just as Eros had said, somebody began walking into her train of sight. She didn’t have time to see who they were, to see if she recognised them, or if they were a man, a woman, a swan (don’t ask). She just closed her eyes and let the arrow loose. She knew it hit the target when she heard a soft oh coming from somewhere in front of her. She knew it hit the target when she felt Eros shaking with silent laughter beside her. She opened her eyes, turning to glower at him.  


“What?” she hissed, noticing that he had actual tears dripping down his face. Something was apparently extremely funny. She, however, was not at all amused. “What is it?”  


“Oh my—oh my—oh Zeus,” gasped Eros, wiping a tear away. “Mother. Oh, Mother. Look who you—oh, this is perfect—look who you shot!”  
Hissing at him, she stood up, stepped out of the bush, and almost screamed at what she saw. She saw who she’d shot. It was a man, handsome and tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. He was standing in the middle of the street, frowning and rubbing at his eyes as though tired. When he tilted his head, angling it to try and get away from the sun, she saw who he was.  


“Hades?!” she cried out.  


At his name, the man turned to look at her, eyes squinting in the sunlight. When he saw who was calling him, his expression contorted into a familiar scowl.  


“What?” he snapped.  


She frowned. Most people who had received an arrow of love acted like lost puppies, all wide-eyed and giggly. They were usually energetic, bouncing around like a child who’d discovered the beach for the first time. But Hades was as grumpy as ever.  


She sighed. It hadn’t worked after all. Her arrow had hit the mark, but he was not in love. Eros was right, and she had lost the bet.  


That’s when it happened.  


A girl with masses of frizzy hair was running towards them, shouting down the phone. She was speaking so fast, it all sounded like one mess of a word: “Holyfucktheyregoingtohatemethisistheworstfuckingdayofmylifeshittingshitfuckshit”. She continued running—straight into Hades, knocking them both down onto the sidewalk. Her phone slipped out of her hand, sliding across the wet ground. She landed right on Hades, sprawled across his chest. One hand had accidentally hit his face when she was flailing about trying to stop her fall, and her legs were tangled up in his.  


The girl shrieked in horror.  


“Shit, shit, I’m so sorry!” she cried. Without a pause, she pushed herself up and off him, hands covering her mouth. Her words were muffled. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you!”  


Hades groaned. He sat up, rubbing gingerly at his head. “Hey! Watch where you’re—” He stopped when he saw her. His eyes widened. “Oh,” he said.  


“I’m so sorry,” she said again, shaking her head. She moved past him, picking her phone up from the floor. Even from where she was standing, Aphrodite could see that the screen was horrifically cracked. It would be a miracle if it ever worked again. The girl’s face fell, and she began to walk away.  


“Wait!” Hades called, almost falling over again in a sudden attempt to get up.  


“I’m sorry, I have an exam! I’m already late!” she shouted over her shoulder.  


He managed to get to his feet, but it was too late; she was already rushing away.  


Hades stared after her, completely forgetting Aphrodite, mouth open in a small ‘o’ as though he’d just been given the biggest revelation of the millennia. He watched her leave like a dreamer staring at the moon.  


And that’s when Aphrodite knew. She turned to the bush, grinning at Eros with the smuggest glint in her eyes, and said, “Told you.” She could make anyone fall in love, anyone at all. Even the God of the Underworld.  


That poor girl. Oversleeping was about to be the least of her problems.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone doesn't get to her exam on time.

Persephone had never felt more stressed in her life. 

She burst through the doors, breaths coming in heavy pants as she half-collapsed at the front of the reception desk. Without saying a word, she rooted around in her shoulder bag for her information and passport, slamming them down onto the desk.

“Persephone,” she said without prompting. “Demeter’s daughter.”

The receptionist, a tall, redheaded woman, raised an eyebrow at her. “And you’re here for…what, a tour?”

Persephone grit her teeth. “An exam. Botany. Professor Aphaea.”

The receptionist turned to her computer, lazily typing the information. Persephone bit back the urge to shout at her to hurry up, couldn’t she see she was in a rush? She clenched her fists. Maybe if her stupid alarm actually worked, she wouldn’t be in this situation.

Finally, the receptionist looked back up at Persephone. “That exam started at 9AM.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Persephone, frowning. As if she didn’t know when her exam started. All her marks for this module depended on this exam. She had memorised the date, memorised the time, memorised the syllabus. She knew what she was doing; she was a university student, not a child.

“It’s now 9.48AM,” the receptionist said, slowly and clearly, as though Persephone didn’t understand. “The exam is an hour long. You’re too late.”

Persephone’s heart dropped to her stomach. You’re too late. The words shook her to her core, sending cold sweat down her spine. No. No, no, no.

“I can’t be too late,” Persephone said, looking up at the clock on the wall. But the receptionist was right. It was 9.48AM, and she was too late to take the exam. Shit. Shit shit _shit_. Her eyes widened, her heart racing, and she looked back at the receptionist with a pleading expression. “Can’t I…can’t I…I mean, aren’t these extenuating circumstances?”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow again. “That depends on why you’re late.”

Oversleeping wasn’t a good enough excuse. She would have needed to be hit by a car, or chased by an axe murderer. Her mind travelled to the man she’d bashed into on the streets that morning. She hadn’t recognised him. Perhaps he was an axe murderer. 

The receptionist continued to stare at her, clearly waiting for a response. A response Persephone did not have. She was well and truly screwed, and if the stinging in her eyes was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take long before she was crying.

“I overslept,” she said honestly, her tongue as dry as parchment in her mouth. 

The receptionist shrugged. “Then I’m sorry. I’d recommend you see Professor Aphaea yourself and discuss it with her. But to be honest with you…I think you’re just going to have to accept that you’ve failed the exam.”

Yeah, those were definitely tears in her eyes. Wiping one away, Persephone swallowed and nodded. Two years of university, down the drain. Quietly, she thanked the receptionist and walked out of the university building, legs heavier than lead as she trudged through the campus. She would go home, lock herself in her room, and cry herself to sleep. Her mother would ask questions, but Persephone didn’t really want to hear them. Idiot, idiot, idiot. Why do bad things always happen to me? 

~

“What the hell do you mean, they won’t let you retake it? Did you speak to the prof?” 

“Yeah,” Persephone sighed, running a hand over her eyes. She was lying in her bed at home, her cracked phone practically glued to her ear. “I emailed. She said there’s nothing she can do; oversleeping isn’t an extenuating circumstance. I’m not gonna pass the module.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, Dionysus sighed and answered in a soft voice: “I’m so sorry, honey.” 

“Me too,” Persephone admitted, staring up at the ceiling of her bedroom. “I think they’re going to kick me off the course.”

Dionysus snorted. “Seph, you’re literally the Goddess of Spring. They’re not gonna kick you of all people off this stupid course. It’s all stupid anyway—I still can’t believe you youngsters have to go to college like mortals. You’re still gods, just not as important.”

“Thanks, D,” said Persephone.

“Hey, I don’t make up the rules, okay? You want to whine to someone about why you’re less important than the Big Twelve, you take it up with Zeus. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to hear your complaints about the elitism of the elderly.”

Now it was Persephone’s turn to snort. Of all the Twelve Olympians, Dionysus was the most chill. He was one of the only gods on Mount Olympus who really didn’t care about the politics of his position. It was something she had to admire about him.

“But studying,” Dionysus repeated. “I just…damn it, Seph, you’re a goddess and you shouldn’t have to study to prove yourself. I never had to.”

“What exactly would you study?” Persephone smiled, though he obviously couldn’t see it: “Alcoholism? Drunkenness? The science behind drunken karaoke?” 

“Acting,” Dionysus said flatly. “I’d study acting. As I’m also the patron of theatre. Gods, you youngsters. You have no respect for the Twelve Olympians these days. You’re too busy partying and studying and doing other youngster things.”

Despite herself, Persephone giggled. She had only recently become friends with Dionysus, but he always knew how to make her laugh, and he was a good friend. This was the second call he’d got from her today, the first being this morning, when she’d half-shouted down the phone at him about oversleeping and being late for her exam. Not her proudest moment.

She stretched in her bed, listening out for her mother. Demeter had been lurking outside her door for the past hour, trying to get Persephone to let her in. Which Persephone would not do. She really didn’t want to explain to her mother why she was considering swan-diving into the Underworld a few centuries early. 

“You gonna get your phone fixed?” Dionysus asked, wisely changing the subject. It didn’t help much. Her cracked phone was just another problem on her ever-growing list.

“I can’t afford it,” Persephone sighed. “And really, it’s my fault. I did run into the guy.”

Although, she silently added, said guy was just standing in the middle of the street squinting his eyes like a newborn baby. Maybe if he had actually moved, she wouldn’t have bashed into him like she did. And maybe if he didn’t just blankly stare at her instead of helping with her dropped belongings, she wouldn’t have been as late this morning. Sure, she would still be ridiculously late, and maybe she was being petty, but damn it, you don’t just stop and stand in the middle of a street during rush hour.

Douche.

“We all have accidents, honey,” Dionysus said lightly. “Don’t worry.”

“Worry is my middle name,” she answered.

He scoffed. “Your middle name is ‘Harvest’. Don’t try and get past me, girly.” He paused again. Then, softer: “You sure you’re gonna be okay? Don’t want me to come over to get ridiculously drunk with you?”

“I'm okay,” Persephone lied. “I'll just have to pick up a different module and work my ass off to get those marks before the deadlines. I'll have, what, a month? That'll be fine. I can do that.”

Internally, she screamed.

They spoke for a while longer, until finally Persephone ended the call and lay back on her bed, staring into space. She really had a terrible day. An awful day. A day so bad, she was beginning to reconsider her existence—which was rather dramatic, especially for her.

She sighed for what felt like the hundredth time in the past hour.

“Kore?” her mother called through the wood of her door. “Kore, can we talk?”

She sounded so damned weary, Persephone almost felt guilty for turning her away. But she really couldn't talk to her right now. She just wanted to sleep. If she slept, she could wake up tomorrow and seize the day with a determined, well-rested mindset. Persephone was naturally a positive person; she could easily lift herself off the ground whenever she was kicked down. Sometimes, however, she needed just a little bit of time to figure out just how she was supposed to get back up.

“I'm going to bed,” she replied through the door. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Kore, please let me in. Don't shut me out--we need to talk about this.” 

“Goodnight, Mom,” Persephone said again. She turned so that she was facing the wall and closed her eyes.

That night, she dreamt of monsters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've all been there, right? I speak from personal experience when I say missing exams and deadlines is the worst. Just the worst. 
> 
> Next chapter: Hades and Persephone actually meet. Properly this time.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The major gods are in town.  
> Persephone sells some flowers.

Demeter gave a sigh of relief when she saw her daughter’s door open. Persephone emerged, giving her mother a familiar, sunny smile as she stepped out of her room and made a beeline for the kitchen. Without a word, she opened the fridge and retrieved a juice carton, sitting on one of the barstools and sipping through the straw like she was a little girl again. And through Demeter’s eyes, she was a little girl. Beautiful, and small, and smiley. Still naïve. Horrendously positive. A dreamer, through and through.

It worried Demeter. Sometimes, her young daughter seemed too naïve, too optimistic. One of these days, she was going to have to go out into the real world, and Demeter wasn’t entirely sure what that would mean for her little Kore.

“Stop worrying, Mom,” Persephone said, eyeing her mother with a raised eyebrow. It was as though she’d read her mind. “Everything’s fine. Another day, another try.”

Demeter stepped into the kitchen, putting the kettle on and turning to peer at her over her horn-rimmed glasses. Worry #2: She was good at pretending. Too good. She knew how to put on a smile, knew how to make her eyes twinkle, knew how to tie her hair back, roll her sleeves up, and tell everyone around her that she was ready for the day. But sometimes, it was fake. And sometimes, even Demeter couldn’t see through it.

“How are you feeling today, dear?” asked Demeter.

“Great,” said Persephone, taking another sip of her juice. “Like I could take on the world. I’ve picked up a shift at work this afternoon, too; Carme’s unwell at the moment.”  


Demeter frowned. Worry #3: Persephone worked too hard. She was a full-time student, a course rep, a student ambassador, and she had a ‘part-time’ job that may as well be full-time for all the work Persephone did for it. She was going to work herself into her grave. She was too young for that, much too young.

“Are you sure you want to take that shift, dear?” asked Demeter.

“Yep,” said Persephone. She gave her another cheery smile. “Hell, I’d work all day if I could.”

“Don’t swear, dear.”

“Sorry, Mom.”

There was a pause as the kettle clicked. Demeter started bustling around making tea, her back to her daughter. Persephone, privately, was relieved. She was starting to get tired of smiling like everything was going well--as if she hadn’t had nightmares so horrible, she'd woken up with tears streaming down her face. 

“What time is your shift?” Demeter said as she poured water into the two mugs she’d gotten out. “I’m only asking because Hermes came over this morning with a message from Zeus. He wants us all to gather at the summit. Titan trouble, he said. Quite frankly, I’d rather he dealt with it, but Zeus wants what Zeus wants. Even Hades has been called up.”

“Hades?” Persephone repeated, leaning forwards in her seat. Her mother mentioned the gods sometimes—everyone did—but she didn’t usually mention Hades. In fact, whenever he came up, Demeter would be painfully obvious as she tried to change the subject, stumbling over her words like she was hiding some great secret. “You don’t sound very pleased.”

“Well, obviously not,” sighed Demeter, turning around and pushing a mug of tea towards her daughter, who was too busy watching her mother’s face to notice. Demeter must have caught the curious expression on Persephone's face, because she immediately scowled. "Now you listen to me, Kore. Stay away from him. He's not good news, and I don't want him going anywhere near my daughter. Do you understand?"

Persephone stared at her. That hadn't been the reaction she'd expected. Whenever the rare topic of Hades was brought up, Demeter would just act coy and shrug off all attempts to find out more about him. Today, however, she seemed almost afraid that Persephone was acting too interested. Which wasn't true at all. Persephone knew a few of the major gods, and she'd seen most of them, but no one spoke about Hades. He never appeared around Mount Olympus, he was never involved in any of the family dramas. It was extraordinarily rare for him to turn up to any of the summit meetings, even if he was invited. He was illusive. Strange. If Persephone didn't know any better, she would even doubt he actually existed. After all, how could anyone be as invisible as Hades?

"I said, do you understand?" Demeter said. 

Persephone frowned. Was her mother really warning her away? If Hades was in town, he was the most interesting guy in town. Those were the rules. But there was no point arguing with Demeter.

"Yeah," Persephone said. "Yes. I understand."

Demeter seemed to let out a sigh of relief. "Good. Very good. If you go through your whole life without meeting that man, you'll be a thousand times happier. Trust me."

She seemed to notice how much she'd surprised her daughter, because Demeter leaned against the counter, her voice taking on a softer tone. “Athena is going to be in town, too—you two seem to get along so well. Perhaps you should try and catch up whilst she’s around? I don’t think she’s too busy, though you never know—everyone needs a bit of wisdom these days.”

Persephone didn't say anything. Sure, she was close to Athena, but she'd never seen her mother overreact so much. Her mind was still on Hades.

“Or maybe Artemis,” Demeter continued, “you like her, too. She told me once that she sees you as a little sister! How sweet is that? I thought it was very sweet. You could learn a thing or two about Artemis—a sworn maiden, you know, maybe you could get some advice from her about, you know, dating, I mean that Adonis, goodness, quite a frightening type of man, wouldn’t want you involved with someone like that again—”

“Mom, I dated Adonis years ago,” Persephone interrupted, cringing. Adonis was probably the biggest mistake of her life. It was still awkward whenever she bumped into him on the street. “And what the hell do you mean ‘advice about dating’? I don’t need advice about dating. I’m an adult. And I’ve dated before. Times have changed—I should be allowed to live my life without being a ‘sworn maiden’ just because Artemis does. I’d rather not take a vow of chastity just because you haven’t liked any of my boyfriends.”

Demeter sighed, shaking her head, and took a long gulp of tea. Persephone was staring to think she needed something considerably stronger. Mortals had an interesting alcohol selection—their amazing drinks didn’t just consist of tea and coffee. Persephone felt offended on the mortals’ behalf that the gods had only just learned to appreciate their beverages. 

“You’re young, Kore,” said Demeter. “And naïve. I just don’t want you to make the wrong choices. Sometimes, wrong choices can haunt us for a very long time.”

“Yeah, Mom, I know,” Persephone said gently. “But I’m not a kid. I can look after myself. And trust me, I know about wrong choices.”

She stood up, yawning, and glanced towards the door. She was considering going to work early. She didn’t really want to be in the same room as Demeter for much longer. Her mother meant well; Persephone understood that. But sometimes, she sounded like she was still stuck in ancient Greece. The world wasn’t as dangerous as it used to be, or at least, people were more aware of the dangers. Persephone wasn’t stupid. Naïve, maybe. Young, yes. But she wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t like she was going to go flower-picking only to be kidnapped by some douchebag with too much power. 

“My shift’s in an hour,” Persephone said, sighing as she turned back to Demeter. “I’d better get ready.”

“Right,” Demeter nodded, perhaps sensing Persephone’s discomfort and frustration. “I won’t be home when you get back, dear. These summits always go on for far too long. Are you going to be okay until I get back?”

Persephone fought the urge to scream. “Mom. Yes. I’ll be fine. Please stop worrying, it’s driving me fucking insane.”

“ _Language, Kore.”_

Persephone sighed again. “Sorry,” she said through gritted teeth. 

Her mother reached over the counter to squeeze Persephone’s arm, trying her best to look and feel as comforting as she possibly could. She didn’t want to be overbearing—she really didn’t. And yes, maybe she could be overprotective sometimes. But Persephone was her only daughter. Demeter didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. 

“Be safe, Kore,” Demeter murmured. 

To her credit, Persephone didn’t roll her eyes or sigh again or snap at her. She just nodded, shooting Demeter a soft smile. “Always am, Ma.” Then she winked. “Have fun listening to Zeus blabber on about how great he is." 

Demeter grinned. “Have fun telling the satyrs not to eat the plants you’re selling.”

They stared at each other. Then they were laughing, and deep down, Demeter knew that everything was okay. No matter what happened, no matter what they lost or how they lost it, they would always have each other to depend on. Demeter would always be thankful for that. 

~ 

Persephone would never tire of walking into the florists'. 

The sight of all the flowers and plants was a comforting, and familiar, sight. As she stepped through the doors, listening to the bell jingle to announce her arrival, she breathed in the scent of greenery. Peppermint and rose showered over her, imaginary dew dripping comfortingly down her face, sweet liquid sticking to her bronze skin. Her flowers were her home. The feeling of warmth enveloped her, and she breathed it all in, unable to stop herself from smiling, because despite the disaster of yesterday and the lecture of this morning, Persephone felt calm. It was as though everything clicked into place as she let the familiarity settle over her. Nothing was wrong. Everything was fine.  
When she opened her eyes again, she was still smiling as she sauntered over to the counter and reached underneath it for her apron. She grabbed it, put it on, and leaned on the counter, beaming at a potted narcissus she kept on the surface, as beautiful as it was summery. Flowers had a language of their own, and the narcissus smiled at her. She could be so much softer with her flowers. There was no pressure to put on an act, to lie, to argue. 

"Hello, little dove,” Persephone murmured. She reached out, gently stroking one of the petals, taking solace in the comfort it gave her to feel the plush skin beneath her finger. “How are you feeling today? Do you need any water, food? Or are you good?” 

As she asked the questions, she reached into the pot with one finger and gently poked at the soil. It was damp, and the plant seemed to be thriving. 

“I watered it for you,” a voice came. 

Persephone looked up, unsurprised to see her boss standing there, frowning at a cactus. Daphne shared Persephone’s adoration for plants; it was what had led to her hiring Persephone in the first place. That, and who Persephone’s mother was. 

"Yesterday," Daphne continued. "When you were gone. It looked like it was wilting, so...well, I thought you'd want me to look after it." 

Persephone beamed. "Thank you. I completely forgot about it." 

Daphne nodded. She looked serious, subdued. Had something happened? Persephone didn't have long to wonder. “I’m not going to be staying today. The meeting at the summit…Apollo will be there.” She looked up, meeting Persephone’s dark eyes with her own green ones. “He knows I work here, and I’d…well, I’d rather not.” 

Persephone nodded. One of the only rules that came with working here was no questions. Most of the times, she didn’t need to ask questions. It was obvious why Daphne would not want to bump into Apollo. 

“I’ll lock up after my shift,” Persephone promised. “Just leave the key wherever.” 

"Thank you, Kore." 

Daphne placed the keys on the counter, a nervous smile on her face. “I’ll see you tomorrow. You have the shift in the morning, don’t you?” Persephone nodded. “Ah, good; you can keep the keys tonight. If you don’t mind, I’ll be going now." 

Persephone nodded again. “Have a good afternoon.” 

“You, too.” 

Daphne left without another word, so quickly that Persephone barely had time to process her departure. She sighed softly, leaning on the counter. She was alone. Persephone didn't mind being alone. In fact, she was quite good at it. Demeter was a popular goddess, and was regularly over at Poseidon's, or in meetings. It was part of the reason Persephone was close to Athena and Artemis; the two of them had helped raise Persephone during Demeter's absences. Sometimes, however, there were no gods to spare, and Persephone had been forced to accept her own loneliness as a part of her. She learned to find companionship elsewhere: in the nymphs, and the flowers, and the meadows surrounding Mount Olympus. That was probably why she was so in love with the outdoors--with the spring and the summer and the beautiful blue skies greeting her mornings after falling asleep in the fields. Persephone had not been born the Goddess of Spring; she had accumulated the honour, partly through her immortal status as Demeter's daughter, but also through her love of the season, and the care she bestowed on the plants and animals it brought.  


So, Persephone did not mind the quietness of the shop. Instead, she basked in it. There was no problem with it. She was alone. So what? But she soon realised that she was not alone--not at all. There was a customer in the shop, somewhere between all the pots and colours. She could hear them picking up pots and putting them back down again, “hmm”ing every so often. Persephone raised an eyebrow, straightening as she peered through the shop in search of the customer. She thought she saw a glimpse of dark hair amongst the green, but she couldn’t be certain. She heard footsteps and prepared to call out to them when they emerged from the aisles, facing her. 

She almost laughed. It was him. The dude she’d knocked over in the street. Ridiculously tall, with short, messy hair and cheekbones sharper than shards of glass. He was wearing a full black suit and a long black coat, and he was carrying a cane--an actual _cane_ with black leather gloves. Oh, boy. This guy was colourful. 

“Long time no see,” she said, unable to resist a grin at her weird luck. 

He stared at her, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. He looked like he'd just seen the ghost of his dead wife or something. She was no mind reader, but Persephone could almost hear him screaming internally, and fucking hell--it wasn’t that awkward. They’d only bashed into each other on the streets. Did that really give him an excuse for gawping her like that? His eyes were practically burning holes through her. 

He seemed to realise that she’d said something to him, because he started opening and closing his mouth like a goldfish, clearly struggling to come up with an answer. 

He ended up blurting out, quite rudely, “What are _you_ doing here?” 

Persephone almost laughed. “I work here. Us minor gods have to do something with our time, you know, and everyone likes flowers. So, here I am." 

He continued to stare at her blankly. Slowly, his eyes drifted down. At first, she thought he was staring at her chest—then she realised that he was looking at her name badge.  


“‘Kore’,” he read, eyes flicking up to hers again. “You’re Persephone? Demeter’s daughter? That’s you?” 

_Someone needs a lesson in social communication_ , she thought. 

Instead of saying this, she answered, “That’s me. I don’t suppose you have a name?” 

His eyes grew even wider, which was pretty damned impressive. They were a dark, strong grey colour, and currently filled with complete shock, amazement, and even...offence? Was asking someone for their name offensive? She didn't see any reason why it would be a bad thing. He knew her name, after all; it was only fair she get his. He looked almost afraid of her question. 

“Um,” he said. He looked like he was racking his brain for an answer. Weird. Persephone could be quite difficult to handle sometimes, but to make someone so shocked they forgot their own name? That was a new achievement. “You’re Demeter’s daughter.” 

Gods, who was this guy? He sounded like he had amnesia. 

“Yeah, you’ve already asked that. I’m Demeter’s daughter.” 

“Persephone." He said it as if he was absolutely terrified. She wasn't scary, was she? She liked flowers and dresses and orange juice. That wasn't scary, right? 

“Yes. But most people call me Kore.” 

She had a feeling he wasn’t going to call her Kore. He’d forgotten his own name—remembering two of hers would probably be beyond his mental capacity. 

Instead of answering her question, he clenched his jaw, directed his eyes towards the floor, and half-mumbled, “I need flowers. For my sister-in-law. To,” he winced, “apologise.” 

Persephone wasn’t sure whether she wanted to smile and giggle or scream in frustration. She was so done with people trying to change the subject instead of answering her questions. To his credit, he did look more nervous than a teenage boy whose crush had just spoken to him, so she supposed she’d let it slide. 

“Well, there are lots of options. It depends why you’re apologising,” she told him. “You could give her a bouquet of yellow roses, or maybe some lilies, if she’s the type of person who likes those sorts of flashy flowers. If she’s more of a subdued, serious type, I would recommend the star of Bethlehem. It’s pretty, but it’s more toned down." 

She had been looking around the shop and gesturing as she spoke, but when she looked back at him again, she found that he had gone back to gazing at her. He looked a bit less like he wanted to scream and run, but his presence was still horribly awkward. A part of her felt sorry for him. 

“So?” said Persephone. “Any preferences?” 

He blinked. Once, twice. Three times. It felt like a century passed before he answered, and again, he sounded confused. “Sorry…what?” 

“For your sister-in-law,” said Persephone. 

For a moment, he seemed at a loss as to what she was talking about. Then he started tapping one hand against his thigh--a nervous tick, she wondered?--and let his eyes drift to the counter. “Which…which would you like to receive? If someone had insulted you and your relationship in front of a large crowd of gods?” He paused, frowning. “Hypothetically.” 

She had an increasing urge to laugh. It was becoming an internal battle. 

“I love roses,” she admitted, smiling. “Yellow roses are so colourful and summery. I don’t think there’s any greater way to apologise than to brighten up someone’s life.” 

He nodded slowly, still watching her like she was a wolf and he a rabbit. 

“Those, then. I want those.” 

“A bouquet?" 

“Yes?” Bless his soul. He really had no idea what he was doing, did he? 

She smiled again. 

Within minutes, she’d wrapped up a bouquet of yellow roses for him, neat and sweet and tied up with a pretty little ribbon. The whole time, he continued to watch her. She wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Unnerved? Confused? Frustrated? Flattered? She didn’t even know his name. He was illusive. Strange. But maybe he just felt awkward buying flowers. It wasn’t a very masculine thing to do, Persephone supposed, and some gods were weird about that. 

She pushed the flowers towards him on the counter. When he reached for his wallet, she shook her head rapidly. 

“On me,” she said, smiling sheepishly. “For knocking you over.” 

“Oh no,” he answered quickly, “I shouldn’t have been standing there, I’m sorry, I just had a sudden moment of confusion. It’s not your fault. Here.” He tried to push some money towards her, without even knowing the price. She didn’t know for sure how much he was trying to give her, but it definitely looked like too much. 

If Dionysus were here, he’d go on and on about how in his day, there was no money on Mount Olympus; gods were not like mortals. Times had changed, however, and gods had to change, too. They had to understand the mortals just as they understood each other. And that meant acting like them. For now. Just until Zeus worked out how to become part of the modern consciousness without the mortal desire for the gods dying out. 

“It was my fault,” Persephone said, pushing the money back towards him. He only withdrew his hand, shaking his head at her. “Dude. Come on.” 

“It’s yours, Persephone,” he insisted. “Take it." 

She was right, then; he wasn’t going to call her Kore. She should feel annoyed, but she wasn’t. Her longer name sounded right when he said it. 

“Okay,” she said, crossing her arms. “I’ll take it in exchange for your name.” 

He watched her wearily; she could practically see his brain ticking. Should he, shouldn’t he? She realised, then, that he hadn’t forgotten his own name. He hadn’t wanted her to know. And the reason why had something to do with her mother. 

The man swallowed, his left eye twitching slightly. 

He seemed to decide that she deserved to know, however, because he answered. 

“Hades,” he said. “My name is Hades.” 

Her jaw dropped. Suddenly, he wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“Have a good day, Persephone,” he said stiffly. 

He picked up the flowers and left, moving too fast for her to even try and stop him. Not that she would. She was too busy trying to comprehend what had just happened. 

And when she did, she had only one thought. 

_Oh, shit. Mom’s gonna kill me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this instead of sleeping.  
> I have a 9am.  
> I am an idiot and a bad student.
> 
> HAVE SOME AWKWARD ENCOUNTERS!


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades is an idiot. A clever idiot. But an idiot.

He arrived at the summit fashionably late, carrying flowers like a ditched prom date.

Demeter was the first person to glare at him, which did not surprise him in the slightest. She made it her mission to pick him apart like a toddler with vegetables. Her hatred was not undeserved, he supposed; even Hades was not so arrogant as to believe that he was an innocent man. He had hurt her. In return, she wanted to hurt him.

And she’d have plenty of reasons to hurt him if she found out who he was in love with.

Hades walked past the staring gods, marching right up to Hera. Without smiling, he shoved the yellow roses at her, so carefully wrapped. _Her_ hands had touched these flowers. Her fingers had moved in expert precision, tying that ribbon like an artist. Hades almost loathed handing the flowers over to his sister-in-law; he wanted to keep them forever. Maybe they could brighten up his palace, just a little bit.

“What are these?” asked Hera, raising an eyebrow at him. She did not take the flowers.

“An apology,” he said gruffly.

She looked dubious. Her pride won out, however, and she took them from him like a child takes an ice cream. Her eyes peered at the flowers, narrowing at the sight.

“Very flashy,” said Hera finally, meeting his eyes. “A pleasant gift. It still doesn’t make up for what you did. Perhaps you should explain to those gathered why, exactly, you have to apologise in the first place?”

He was absolutely not in the mood for this bullshit. He’d come all the way from the Underworld for a meeting, not to be mocked in front of everyone by a pathetic sister-in-law who was so tragically in love with the idea of marriage that she didn’t realise that her own had been steadily crumbling for the past few centuries.

But he wasn’t going to get angry. There was no point. He could play her games. 

Hades turned to the crowd, looking at them all carefully. One by one. Demeter continued to glower at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. He could have picked those flowers himself. He probably didn’t. He should have thought this through. But he didn't know Persephone worked there. He didn't know. Demeter couldn't blame him for that, could she? _Could_ she?

He smiled at them all as sweetly as he possibly could. “I am apologising because I made a comment to my dear sister-in-law regarding her marital status and her husband,” he said honestly. Hera nodded seriously, and then started shaking her head when she saw the wicked glint in his eyes. “So I am sorry, Hera, that your husband has as much control over his own dick than a dog in mating season. That must be very hard.” He paused, thinking. “Pun intended.” 

He had to grin at the ruckus his comments caused. The crowd went wild, shouting at him and insulting him. It was nothing he hadn’t heard before, and he only stood there, smiling at them like the cat that got the cream as the fury began to build. Insulting Zeus was like trying to decide which goddess was more beautiful; it could cause a giant war and enough mortal casualties to make soap operas cry. 

“Enough!” Zeus called over the noise. His eyes were flashing, and Hades really wasn’t sure whether it was in amusement or fury. In times like this, Hades was never sure whether his younger brother wanted to high-five or punch him. He would rather a punch. At least it gave him an excuse to punch back. “I said enough! Look at you all! Are you mortals? Calm yourselves. Hades.” Zeus spun on him, and Hades squared up to him, waiting. Hades was a lot bigger than Zeus. Broader shoulders, more height. Sure, Zeus was more powerful, but if it was going to be a punch-up, there was no doubt who would win. “If you speak one more time during this meeting, I will personally stick a lightening bolt right up your—” 

“ _O_ -kay!” Athena said quickly, stepping forwards. “Perhaps we should end it there, Father.”

Zeus glared at her, but relented. It was a good job it was Athena. If anyone else had intervened, they would probably now be dead.

“Let’s just talk about the Titans,” Athena said softly. “Shall we?”

Hades threw Hera a smirk. She scowled in reply.

He regretted nothing.

~

He had been lulled into a false sense of security and boredom throughout the meeting, so when Demeter cornered him once it was adjourned, Hades was taken by surprise. She grabbed him by the lapels of his blazer, shoving him back against the wall with so much fury, he flinched. Demeter was fairly small--small enough that the strength in her was alarming. But, Hades reminded himself, she was a goddess. The fury of a god surpassed all mortal conceptions of power.

“What did you do?” Demeter hissed, getting right in his face. She had similar eyes to Persephone—a golden brown, the colour of good brandy—but hers were so much harder, so much angrier, so much older. Persephone had eyes of mischief and youth. Demeter had eyes that had seen too much. “What the hell did you do to my daughter?”

He’d feign innocence. It was better than admitting it, and Hades was a good liar. He’d had a lot of practice whilst pretending he was happy.

“Your daughter? What are you talking about?” he hissed through his teeth.

Demeter snarled. “Those flowers. You got them from her, didn’t you?”

“What? I’ve never even met your daughter—”

“Don’t lie to me!” she snapped, eyes flashing even more now. “I know your game. I know what you’re up to. You’re a scheming, conniving little shit, and if you go anywhere near my daughter again, I’ll personally see to it that you’re thrown in with the Titans!”

“Get off me,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“I don’t think so. I don’t know exactly what you did, but I know you did something. Men like you—you just can’t resist, can you? You just can’t help yourself. All you brothers are the same. You might pretend to be different—you might pretend you’re separate—but we both know you’re not. You’re just as impulsive as Zeus, maybe even more.”

“Let go,” he said again. He felt a familiar burning feeling in the pit of his stomach, steadily swelling inside him. Damn it. He didn’t need this. He knew it was bad news. As soon as the girl had given him her name, he had felt a horrible sense of dread. If he were in his normal state of mind, he would stay away from her. Well away. He’d hide back home, as he always did. But he was not in a normal state of mind. Even if he didn’t know why, he felt it.

“Or what? What will the great Hades do? Will you kill me? Because you spend your life with the dead; I’ll haunt you, I’ll drive you mad, I’ll kill you in your sleep—”

She was interrupted by a soft, familiar voice.

“Mom?”

Hades and Demeter both turned, each as shocked as the other as they took in the sight before them. Persephone was standing there, her hair in disarray, her work apron still on. Her eyes were twinkling with unreadable emotion. At her sides, her hands were clenched into tiny fists. Her chest heaved as she tried to hide just how out of breath she was. 

Damn it, damn it, _damn_ it. Hades was the God of the Underworld and he was not in love. He was not. He had had one conversation with this woman. He had seen her twice. There was no such thing as love at first sight—right?.

“Kore? What are you doing here?” Demeter demanded, abruptly releasing Hades. He had to brace himself against the wall to stay standing. “You’re supposed to be at work.”

Persephone’s eyes flickered to Hades, then back to Demeter, who noticed it at once.

Demeter narrowed her eyes. “Kore. Do you know this man?”

She pointed roughly at Hades.

Eyes flicking back to him again, Persephone shrugged. Her face was a mask of indifference; even her eyes looked almost dull. When she said, “I have no idea” even Hades felt inclined to believe her.

“You’re lying,” said Demeter, glowering at her daughter, searching her face for evidence of said lie.

“What? No, I’m not. Shit, Mom, what’s the point of even living at home if all I’m going to get is judgement and distrust?” Persephone cried, exasperated. She rubbed at one of her eyes with the heel of her palm, almost as though she was exhausted and trying to exploit it to make her point. “Can’t you take my word for something? Just once? I don’t know who he,” she gestured towards Hades with a dismissive hand, “is. I’ve never seen him before. Ever.”

Demeter stared at her. And, to Hades’ amazement, she sighed softly and actually relented. Hades had known Demeter for millions of years, and he had never once seen her back down in an argument. The fact that she would back down so quickly was ridiculous.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Kore. It’s just…it’s been a tense few days.” She paused, frowning slightly. “Some…Titan business.”

Persephone smiled, and she did a good job of making it look like she understood and was too tired to fight anymore. “It’s okay, Mom.”

Hades decided that now was a good time to speak up or leave. He would rather leave. He really would. But something about how stressed Persephone had been when she arrived, something about how she was still wearing her apron, something about she had breached the summit security to get here, was giving off some bad signals.

“You seriously let your daughter come to a summit meeting?” Hades asked stiffly, hoping he sounded accusing and distant. “What amazing parenting.”

Demeter spun around to face him, looking like she was seconds away from choking him to death with her bare hands. “Ex _cuse_ me? I didn’t _let_ my daughter come, I didn’t even know she was here!”

“Then why _is_ she here?”

But before Persephone could explain herself, a man appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, his eyes on Demeter and Demeter alone. He was of medium height, with sandy hair and eyes the colour of the sun. Handsome, with a youthful, dimpled face.

“Demeter,” the man said, his serious expression strange on his face. “Zeus sent me. He needs to talk to you immediately.”

Demeter didn’t even spare him a glance; her eyes were focused on her daughter. “Tell him I’ll be a moment.”

The man frowned. “He said now.”

“And I said in a moment, Apollo. Go and tell him that.”

Apollo just raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. It was clear he wasn’t going anywhere until Demeter did as she was asked. Hades fought the urge to roll his eyes. The gods were so stubborn, so demanding. Most of the gods viewed him as the unfortunate one, hidden away in the pocket of death beneath the surface. He had grown past resentment, and now felt quite lucky. At least he didn’t have to deal with his brother bossing him around.

“For crying out loud,” Demeter sighed, turning to face Apollo with flaring eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, my daughter is here.”

Apollo shrugged. “So? Zeus wants you, not her. She won't die without you, will she?”

Hades glanced at Persephone, unsurprised to see a flash of sudden respect passing over her face. She knew those words well, he realised. Demeter was overprotective, and Persephone hated it. He stored that information away for another day.

“Then Hades shall come with me!” Demeter announced.

Hades didn’t even have a chance to protest before Apollo said, “No. Zeus asked me to get you alone. After the little stunt he pulled earlier,” he glanced at Hades appreciatively, “very funny, by the way, I must say…”

“Much obliged,” said Hades.

“Get on with it!” shouted Demeter.

Apollo turned back to her, shrugging again. “Zeus would rather not raise tensions. So, you’ll need to come along. No Kore, no Hades. Just you, please.”

Persephone stepped forwards, gently touching Demeter’s arm. “Trust me, Mom. I’ll be fine. I’ll go back home and I’ll tell you later, okay?”

Demeter watched her carefully, eyes searching her face once again for signs of deceit. There was sadness in her, a grief Hades felt but did not understand. It was the grief of a mother denying a truth, the sadness of a woman unable to let something go. Hades did not, could not understand. He knew grief, he knew sadness, he knew remorse so deep it left him cold and morose, but he did not know this kind. 

Demeter took a deep breath. “Go straight home. Immediately. And remember what I told you earlier.” She gripped Persephone’s hands tightly in her own. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Persephone said quietly.

Demeter shot one last warning look at Hades, one worried one at Persephone, and allowed Apollo to lead her out of the room they had been standing in, small and empty and more like an abandoned prison than a waiting room.

As soon as she was gone, Hades had to ask.

“You lied. About knowing me. Why?”

She shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Because I’m not supposed to speak to you. In all fairness, I didn’t know it was you. But you knew it was me. That’s enough for my mother; she would have killed you.”

Hades pondered this. She was right, of course. Demeter had been strangely secretive about her child ever since she was born, hiding her from everyone—especially the trio of brothers. Zeus and Poseidon didn’t bother, didn’t even ask, but they didn’t need to. Demeter was worried, rightly so, because Aphrodite was playing matchmaker again. And recently, she had been eyeing Hades like a hawk. To picture him with someone as sunny and sweet as Persephone would provide the perfect level of amusement for Aphrodite, and with Persephone drifting away from her, Demeter was becoming more protective than ever.

Persephone didn’t really seem to understand, but Hades did. He was the only unmarried major god. It was no secret that he had no lovers, no romantic attachments. And the way Zeus had been talking lately…

He shuddered, remembering the last meeting he’d actually bothered to attend.  


“You know why you’re so grumpy?” Zeus had asked, patting him on the shoulder. “You’re sexually frustrated.”

“Oh, finally!” Aphrodite had cried. “Someone said it! Hades, no offence, but you seriously, seriously need to get laid. If you want some help, I can set you up with someone…”

“Absolutely not!” he’d gasped back. “I’m—I’m not—I don’t need—I’m fine by myself!”

“Can’t marry your left hand, Hades,” Aphrodite had said, winking. “You need a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Or both!”

It was no wonder he hated meeting with the gods. 

Now, standing alone in a room with Persephone was making Hades feel itchy. His throat was dry. He didn’t usually talk to women, save for Hecate, but he saw her more as a sister than anything. Talking to a woman now…well, it made him feel awkward. And nervous. And far more anxious than a god had any right to be.

“Um,” he said, suddenly finding it difficult to find something to say. “Um, well. Thank you. For, um…well, saving me. I suppose.”

Persephone grinned at him. “No problem, Hades.”

The way she said his name sent shivers down his spine. Damn it. Maybe Zeus was right. 

No. Zeus was never right. He was going mad, that was all. He just felt lonely. Perhaps he ought to visit Thanatos or speak to Hecate. They would make him feel better. Because surely, surely this was an illness. Nobody fell in love with someone after seeing them once. After speaking to them once. That was ridiculous. 

“You left pretty suddenly earlier,” Persephone said, breaking the silence.

He shrugged awkwardly. “I was, um. Late. For the meeting.”

“Right.”

Silence again. He could think of nothing to say. He was probably making her feel so unbelievably awkward. Why did he even care how he made her feel? He didn’t care about the other gods. It was because she was a goddess, he decided. Goddesses were difficult. That was why he’d found Athena awkward, and Artemis strange. Aphrodite and Hera were totally different stories. He liked Hestia, though. Yes. _Think about her_. Hestia looked old and tired. She was like his mother, Rhea. That helped.

He really ought to stop speaking to her and go home. But he liked her voice. And she was pleasant to talk to. She was intelligent. And sweet.

He swallowed. “So. Um. Why are you here?”

To his surprise, she grinned. Her smile was soft sunshine, but her grin was blinding. “To save you from uncertain death, idiot. My mom doesn’t like me going anywhere near the major gods. She’d rather I live a normal life, you know, get my degree, get a job, live in a little house with a nymph or dryad. We actually, um…argued this morning. About me staying away from…” she paused, frowning, “people. When you left earlier, I realised that letting you run off with a bouquet of _my_ roses, knowing who you were, was not gonna end well with my mom. So I thought I’d come and rescue you.” She paused, grinning again, and Hades felt faint at the sight of it. “Apollo was in on it. Aphrodite convinced him to help out so I could get Mom away from you. I had a feeling one of you would have ended up dying.”

Hades stared at her, amazed at 1) her intuition, and 2) her kindness. She didn’t even know him. She’d met him once, twice if you were being generous, and despite finding out who he was, despite dealing with his inability to talk like a normal person to beautiful women, she’d come to help him escape her mother, knowing that Demeter would suspect something with the roses. She wanted to help just because…just because she was nice. 

He could have cried. He didn’t. But he could have. No one did that for him. No one lied to summit security and their own mother to help out the God of the Underworld. 

No one but her.

Maybe love at first sight was real after all.

Or maybe...

“Wait,” he said. “Did you say Aphrodite?” 

“Yeah,” said Persephone, beaming at him. “She was all for helping you. I think she’s a lot nicer than she lets on.” 

Now, Hades was an intelligent man. He was the cleverest of his brothers. He was wise in many ways. But he had been very, very stupid. No, not just stupid. Completely, ridiculously, hopelessly idiotic. 

This was not love at first sight.

This was not sickness.

How had he been so blind? How had he not realised? Aphrodite had been eyeing him, teasing him, mocking him, for the last few weeks. She had been staring right at him when he had first met Persephone, when they had bashed into each other. When he had fallen in love.

“Aphrodite,” he said faintly. 

He was going to fucking kill her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so dissatisfied with this chapter. Hades' perspective is a bit more difficult to write, because he's so in love he doesn't actually understand why. He's in too deep to question it. Which makes it hard, because he and Persephone are also strangers. I wanted to sprinkle in some grumpy Hades too, though, so here it is.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it anyway. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone would rather die than let the gods dictate her life.

Persephone had spent her morning shouting at satyrs, so it was a welcome relief when Daphne finally walked through the door. Daphne looked absolutely exhausted, her eyes ringed with red and purple from lack of sleep. She looked like she was about to collapse as she stepped into the shop, blearily staring at the sight of Persephone guarding the ferns with a pitchfork in hand. 

“I…can we talk?” Daphne asked. Usually, Daphne would take one look at Persephone and burst into a fit of hysterics. Today, she seemed subdued and bothered. Something had to be wrong if she looked like that.

Persephone put the pitchfork down, allowing it to lean against the wall with the rest of the gardening equipment. She untied her apron, folded it up, and approached her boss and friend with a concerned grip of her wrist.

“Are you okay?” Persephone asked, voice soft. “What happened?”

Daphne took one look at her and burst into tears. She couldn’t even speak; she was far too upset, tears streaming down her face. Without pausing, Persephone pulled her in for a hug, holding onto her as tightly as she could. She murmured soft words of comfort to her, rubbing her back in soothing circles, just as her mother used to do for her when she was upset. 

“Come on, let’s sit,” Persephone said quietly. “We’ll close up for a bit.”

She released Daphne only to swap the Open sign with the Closed one, and then she was pulling her along by hand through the isles of greenery, turning to walk through the door to the left. It was where the office was, with their ancient computer and millions of folders. Persephone gently pushed Daphne into the only seat, closing the door behind her so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. Then she crouched down, holding Daphne’s hands in her own, and said, “It’s okay. You can tell me.”

Daphne let out a loud, wailing sob. “I just…I can’t do this anymore! I _can’t_ , Kore!”

Persephone remained patient. “Can’t do what?”

“This!” Daphne snatched one of her hands out of Persephone’s, using it to gesture expansively. She gave a bitter laugh, which quickly turned into more tears. 

“Daphne,” Persephone prompted, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Daphne met her eyes, and once again her hands were in Persephone’s. For a few moments, Daphne said nothing at all, and Persephone didn’t pressure her. Her boss had been through more than enough. She was a tragedy, the kind of story Demeter would tell to warn Persephone away from men and gods, only instead of stories Daphne was left with reality. She had to live through it all. She had to live through it, knowing what Apollo had tried to do to her, knowing that the only reason she had escaped at all was because of her father. She had to live through it now, knowing that Apollo was in town, knowing that he would look for her.

Eros and Aphrodite were cruel, conniving gods. One arrow from one of them could transform a god, turn him into a senseless mess. He would lose all reliability, all responsibility. He would know the difference between right and wrong, but he would be unable to stop himself from crossing that line. And the worst thing was, they would be left to fester in their feelings, overtaken by love until finally, finally, it grew too strong and overpowered them.

Apollo was a reasonable man, a good god. He had managed to resist Eros for weeks before love finally started eating him from the inside out. And then he’d lunged at Daphne like a man possessed.

“I don’t…I want to leave Olympus,” Daphne finally said, breaking Persephone out of her reverie with a shock.

“What?” she whispered.

“I want to leave,” Daphne wept. “I don’t want to stay anymore. I have to go.” She shook her head so violently, her braids started falling out of place. “I am going. I’m going, I’m leaving, I’m going to live on the surface.”

“But…why?” Persephone said slowly. “Why?”

Perhaps Persephone was selfish, but she needed Daphne. She wasn’t just a boss; she was a good friend, a close confidant. She knew everything about Persephone. The two shared lunch together most days, laughing in the sun. They’d grown up together.

And not just that. The florist’s was Persephone’s home. Here was her escape; there were few boundaries here, few rules. She didn’t have to worry about frightening her mother. This was her sanctuary, her distraction, her source of money sorely needed. And without it…

“Here, I live every day of my life in constant fear that he’s right around the corner,” Daphne said, seeing Persephone’s face and withdrawing. She wasn’t crying anymore; she looked sorrowful and serious, knowing what this was doing to her employee and finding no solution to make both parties happy. “He’s always here, Kore. Always. My father lives on the surface now, and…and I want my family. I don’t want fear and paranoia and anxiety. I just want to be happy. And happy isn’t here. Not anymore.”

“He’s hardly ever here,” Persephone didn’t intend it to come out as begging, but it did. “And—and it’s been years. And the shop, what about the shop?”

_What about me?_

Daphne squeezed her hands gently, leaning forwards. “I’ll visit, Kore. I’ll visit all the time. This was…this was…” She shook her head, and tears started welling up in her eyes again. “This was a hard decision. I’m so sorry. You’ve been so kind to me, such a good friend. I didn’t—I don’t—want to disappoint you. But I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t.”

Persephone’s eyes started stinging. “No. You can’t go. You can’t.”

But Daphne only squeezed her even tighter, letting out a soft, sorrowful sigh. “I have to. I’m sorry. I really, truly am. But I have no other choice; I have to leave.”

Abruptly, Persephone stood up, snatching her hands away. She didn’t say anything as she flung the door open, storming through the shop towards the main door.  
By the time Daphne had any time to call to her, Persephone was gone.

 

~

 

Persephone wasn’t angry—not at Daphne. Daphne had every reason and every right to leave Mount Olympus, and when she’d calmed down, Persephone would understand and respect her decision.

No. She was angry at Apollo. She was angry at Eros. She was angry at Demeter. She was angry at every single one of the major gods for even thinking that they were so much better than everyone else, thinking they could dictate what the minor gods did and didn’t do. Persephone was sick of them taking things away from her, sick of them forcing her to fit their perfect mould. Her mother did not decide who she was. Zeus did not decide what she was. And none of them decided how.

Persephone stormed down the street, her fists clenched at her sides, her scowl so terrifying, it would probably make Zeus stop and stare. She got her temper from her mother, and like her mother, she knew how to use it. Persephone wasn’t going to stand for any of this. Why should she feel like she had no future because of how badly her degree was going? Why should she feel like she had no friends because the gods kept scaring them off? Why should she feel like she couldn’t live her life as she wanted to live it just because her mother told her not to? She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t! She was a god! Why was she letting everyone walk all over her like she was a flimsy mortal girl?

“I make my own decisions,” she seethed out loud. “I decide who I am. It’s my life.”

She walked and walked and walked, not looking where she was going, not knowing how much time passed. She didn’t care. Why should she? It wasn’t like she had a goal here. She wanted to walk until she forgot. Walk until she didn’t care about anything anymore.

Then she realised she was lost.

She stopped walking, calmer now, and looked around her. She had turned down several random streets, and now stood on a darkened sidewalk leading off to a strange country path. The skies had gone dark; when she retrieved her phone from her pocket, she saw that it was 7PM. She’d been walking for hours. 

Persephone swallowed. She should check maps, work out where she actually was. She tried, meddling with the screen with cold hands, but the reality of her situation hit her: she had no signal. Oh, fuck. Where the hell was she?

Deciding that staying still in the middle of a dark street at night was probably not the best idea, Persephone continued to walk. Now that the adrenaline and anger had worn off, she realised that it was really, really cold. Unusually so. She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. She could see nothing at all in the darkness, but she continued walking anyway, her legs carrying her down the country path. 

As she continued to walk, it grew colder and colder and colder, until she felt like ice was slowly beginning to encase her skin. Movements became slower and fewer as her feet began to drag. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably, and she didn’t think she would be able to remove her arms from her torso even if she wanted to. She kept hearing tiny whimpering noises, and she was horrified to find that they were coming from deep in her own throat.

She told herself it was just because she’d been walking for so long. She was slower because she was tired; she was colder because she was made of summer. This was fine. She was fine. There was really no point in dramatics.

That’s when the voices started. 

They came quietly at first, tiny drips in her brain. She could almost convince herself it was her own whimpering, or perhaps a headache.

Then the voices took form, and she realised they weren’t in her head at all. They were all around her, whispering to her, ghostly lips pressing against her temples. She continued shivering, not even realising that she’d stopped walking. 

_Join us_ , they said.  


_Come_ , they said.  


_You belong with us…_

She couldn’t even think. Her body didn’t even feel numb anymore; it felt like it wasn’t even there. She forced her eyes down, unable to move her head, and found that she did still have a body. She did still have one, though it was completely covered in ice and snow.

Persephone gave a strangled breath. This was wrong. This was all wrong. Something bad was happening to her, she knew it. She was going to die here, she thought. She was going to die here alone in the darkness, all because she hadn’t watched where she’d been walking.

_Join us._  


_Come._  


_You belong with us._

She would have shaken her head, would have screamed and ran, but she could not move. She was frozen in space and time, the darkness consuming her. She gasped again. Whimpered. She felt tears fall and freeze in tiny icicles on her face. She was dying, she was dying, she was dying. 

This was it. This was all that was. She was seeing the past and the present and the future she could never have. She was seeing all of the world, all of the universe, greeting her like an old friend. The darkness was her friend. It was warm and welcoming.

_Join us._  


_Come._  


_You belong to us._

Her eyelids were frozen, and she could not close her eyes. She didn’t need to. The darkness was everything. There was nothing else; just her and the empty hollows.

And then…

“Persephone?” 

She fought to turn her head, but she couldn’t. It was Hades. What was Hades doing here? What did he want? Why wasn’t he like her, encased in thick layers of ice?

_She belongs to us. She belongs to us. She belongs to us._  


The voices were speaking collectively now, ghostly whispers of every tone and pitch surrounding Persephone, threatening her.

“Oh, piss off, the lot of you,” Hades huffed. “Go on. Off you go.”

_But she should be ours! Her warmth, her light, it’s all ripe for the taking…just one taste, master, please, just one, just a bit…_

“If you don’t get out of here right now, it’ll be the Styx for all of you,” Hades said without humour. “Leave.” A pause. “Patroclus. That includes you. Stop lurking.”

One of the voices sighed. And suddenly, they were gone, all of them, and Persephone was able to move again.

She turned her head, wide-eyed as she gazed at Hades. He was approaching her quite fast, she thought faintly. Practically jumping towards her. She was still frozen when he grabbed her by the shoulders, towering over her and staring right into her eyes. She thought he was saying something, but she couldn’t hear him properly. She tried to read his lips instead.

He was saying her name. Distantly, like she was hearing underwater, she heard him murmuring, “Focus on me. Focus, that’s it. Good girl. There’s my good girl. Don’t close your eyes, now. This will all pass in a few moments.”

She leaned forwards without meaning to, shivering and shuddering as the cold began to disappear. It went slowly, as though it was him warming her up. But that was impossible. He couldn’t do that. Gods could not alter temperature, especially not gods like him.

Even so, she felt herself beginning to get back to a normal body temperature. She didn’t shut her eyes the whole time, trying to listen to him, trying to focus on his face, on his eyes. They were very beautiful eyes. She hadn’t really noticed it before, but the grey was not sombre or bland; it was soft and open and emotional, a delicate silver colour. In his right eye, he had some green, too, a few strokes and blemishes here and there. It was as though he was a painting, and someone had grown bored and stared flicking the paintbrush at him.

“Wh-what—what was—that?” she managed to get out, teeth still chattering.

He must have removed his coat whilst she’d been staring at him, because she was wearing it. When had that happened? And why was this awkward man trying to help her? He found it difficult enough to say hello to her, let alone save her from whatever that was. And yet, here he was, inches away from her, his eyes full of concern.

“That was the Underworld,” Hades said, absently running his hands up and down her upper arms. Trying to warm her up. He was practical, then, even if he did freeze up whenever he saw her. Ha. Freeze. “You walked straight into it. No one has ever been able to do that since…well, I don’t remember. Interesting, that it would call to you now. A girl so bright.”

She stared at him. She felt warmer, felt less like she was dying, and her understanding came back in a heartbeat. She stepped away, multiplying the distance between them, and replaced his hands with her own. She felt awkward all of a sudden. She had tried to escape the gods tonight, and instead she’d run straight into one. 

He seemed to sense the tension, too, because he started avoiding her eyes again.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said finally. “You really shouldn’t.”

“I know,” she said, and her voice was a hoarse whisper. 

She didn’t offer an apology or an explanation. She owed him nothing.

He swallowed. In the gaping silence, she could hear it.

“How did you get here?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just…walked. And kept walking.” She looked at the floor, biting her lip. “I don’t…I don’t know how to get back,” she admitted finally, meeting his eyes. “Could you, um, give me some directions or something? My mom will kill me if I’m not back soon. It’s late and dark and…can you just help me get back, please?”

To her surprise, he shook his head, frowning. “I’m not giving you directions.”

She stared. “What? Why the hell not?”

“Because this is the Underworld. There are no directions.” He paused. She could almost hear the cogs in his brain ticking. He kept staring at her again, eyes burning into her. Was it her imagination, or did his gaze seem to get more intense with every encounter they had? What was his deal?

Hades said, “The way to the Underworld…the gates…they change. Quite often. Without having seen the route you took, I can’t really help you get back until a more familiar route appears.”

She rubbed at her eye with the back of her hand. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t. You're a goddess of sunshine and flowers and everything the Underworld isn't."

This was getting more frustrating by the minute. She was usually full of smiles and laughter, finding his awkwardness cute, delighting in teasing him. But she’d had a long, emotional day, and she was really not in the mood for this.

“Then what do I do?” she demanded. “Just stand here, waiting for you to find a ‘route’ so I can go and tell my worrying mother that I’m not dead?”

He shook his head. And, speaking quickly, as though he was afraid he wouldn’t say it at all if he didn’t get it out, he said, “You could stay with me.”

The words hung in the air between them. Neither had expected them, and neither knew how to respond. Persephone stared at Hades, and Hades stared at Persephone, and the air was suddenly so warm it was strange to think it had frozen Persephone half-to-death mere moments before. He was a stranger to her. A stranger her mother had warned her about. But he was interesting. And cute. And he was trying to help her.

But Persephone was not an idiot. She was not some innocent maiden who didn’t understand how the real world worked. This was a very bad idea.

“I don’t even know you,” she said, quite reasonably.

He didn’t seem put off by her answer. “You know the shades even less,” he reasoned.

She looked at him carefully, observing everything—from the smooth skin around his eyes (did he smile, did he laugh?) to the serious, unsmiling lips. He had a point. Yes, he was the God of the Underworld, and yes, she had heard bad things about him. But she was trapped on one of these “routes”. Routes only he understood and knew. He wasn’t asking anything major; he was offering a place to stay, just until he could take her home.

Absently, she squeezed her own shoulder. “Is that…is that what they were? Shades?”

“They don’t usually come this far out,” he told her, frowning. For once, he didn’t look at her or the floor, but his eyes drifted off somewhere behind her shoulder. He looked lost in thought. She wondered what he thought about. What did he dream of? What scared him? What made him feel happy, and what made him feel sad? “This is shallow for them. They sensed you, I think. They get like that when the other gods come, too. Hermes gets a pass, of course, but you…you’re different. I think you must have confused them.” His frown deepened. “Or maybe…hmm. That would explain a lot.”

She sensed that he was starting to forget himself, and cleared her throat. “Hades.”

His eyes immediately found hers again. “Persephone.”

She was going to regret this. She was really going to regret this. If her mother were here, she would actually kill her.

But it wasn’t like she had many other options.

“I’ll stay,” Persephone said before she could back out. “Until the routes are fixed, I’ll stay. On one condition.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. “You’re negotiating my protection?”

“Yes, I am.”

She glared at him, her eyes posing a challenge. Was it her imagination, or did the corner of his lips just quirk up? 

“Go on then,” he allowed.

“I go home as soon as the routes change,” she said, watching him closely. 

He nodded at once. “Of course. That was the deal.”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment. Then, unable to resist pointing it out, Persephone said, “You seem a lot less nervous.”

She expected him to smile, or shrug, or get awkward again. Instead, he nodded grimly, his eyes hard. Was that anger she saw in his face?

“There’s a reason for that,” he growled. 

She raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said, seeing her expression. “I’m sorting it out.”

He might seem less nervous, but he was still fucking weird.

This was a really, really bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot tropes, in _my_ mythological fanfiction? It's more likely than you think.  
>  I am having way too much fun writing this.
> 
> Also, thank you for the reads and kudos, it honestly makes me so happy!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades is really bad at this whole "girl" thing.  
> Persephone knows a lot more than she lets on.

_(A few hours before)_

Aphrodite looked surprised to see him, as though she hadn’t expected Hades to work out something so obvious. As soon as she saw him, she tried to shut the door. He forced it open, scowling down at her with all the fury in the world.

Hades could be sweet. He could be soft. He disliked conflict, disliked arguments, though he had caused a fair few of them. 

But he could also be cruel and hard and everything he was expected to be. He was the judge and jury and he was best friends with the executioner. It wasn’t a good idea to cross him. And if you tried to manipulate him, it was practically a death wish.

“We’re going to talk,” Hades said. His tone was calm, but he boomed the words. 

“Okay,” said Aphrodite. She opened the door and let him in.

She had a beautiful studio apartment near the summit, spacious and airy. It was all sleek modern art, with designer furniture and windows large enough that the whole world would be able to see her in all her glory. It was an open flat, too, with few doors. It was too flashy for Hades, but he knew a girl who’d appreciate the open space.

“Sit,” Hades commanded.

Aphrodite didn’t argue. She sat on one of the white leather loveseats, staring up at him and waiting. He looked so strange in this setting. His presence was too unsteady. He was like electricity, constantly buzzing with aimless energy and constantly changing moods.

Hades’s scowl deepened. “You shot me. Didn’t you?”

She couldn’t resist the smirk that came to her face. “Why would you think that? Has some pretty little thing caught your attention?”

“Don’t play games with me. Tell me the truth.”

She observed him. It was best not to tease him when he was like this. Aphrodite knew her victims well, and when they were in this state, making them even angrier and more frustrated than they already were was a fatal mistake. 

“Yes, I shot you,” she said finally, leaning back and crossing her arms. “I didn’t realise who you would fall in love with. My arrows are interesting like that. Once you’re shot, you don’t just fall in love with the first person you see—if that was the case, you’d be in love with me. You fall in love with someone you’ve already thought about, even subconsciously.”

Hades looked just about ready to kill her. “That’s bullshit. I hadn’t met Persephone before you shot me. How could I think about her when I don’t even know her?”

Aphrodite raised an eyebrow. “You knew of her. And you’ve seen her around before; perhaps you passed her in the street.”

“I would remember,” he argued.

“No, you wouldn’t. It’s subconscious attraction. You noticed her and your brain decided she was attractive. It’s not my fault you didn’t realise it.”

He growled. He was clearly thinking about it, though, because he began to pace, raking one hand through his hair. He looked like a caged animal, walking around like that, frowning down at the floor as though it had personally offended him.

Aphrodite couldn’t help feeling curious.

“Have you spoken to her since the shot?”

He didn’t look at her. “Yes. Twice.”

“And did it go well?”

Hades scoffed. “I freeze up every time I talk to her. She’s just…she’s so beautiful, and so intelligent, and so funny. She’s intimidating. I’ve never felt like this before.”

“That’s because you’re in love,” Aphrodite supplied helpfully. Then she frowned, realising what he’d just said. “Wait. You’ve never been in love?”

“Of course not,” he snapped. “I’ve been busy.”

“What about Minthe?”

“That was years ago. And I didn’t love her.”

“She loved you.”

“Not for long,” he said. He didn’t sound sad or regretful. He just sounded tired. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to shoot him. But Aphrodite hadn’t intended it to be him. It was pure coincidence that he had walked into her sights. He stopped pacing, and he looked determined. “You have to undo this. You have to take it all back. I can’t be in love with her.”

But Aphrodite shook her head. Her eyes were soft when she looked at him. “I can’t take it back, Hades. Once an arrow is shot, that’s it. There are no ways to undo it.”

The look on his face was enough to make her forget how dangerous he could be, how big a temper he had. She felt almost sorry for him. He was just trying to live his life and do his job right. He disliked people, hated meetings. He didn’t get on with his family and made no secret of it. And now, he was tied to a girl so unlike him, it was funny.

She wasn’t laughing now, and neither was he.

“Love is a good thing,” she reassured him. “It’s a beautiful thing.”

“Love takes away self-control and restraint,” he shot back at her. “It ruins work and it destroys families. I don’t want this, and I never wanted it, and…and you had no right.”

He clenched his fists and turned away from her.

She stood up.

“Just try to get to know her,” she reasoned. “Try and give in. Fighting love will never work. Love is love. Anyone can fall in love with anyone, with or without my interference.”

She didn’t say ‘help’. She was sure he would kill her if she did.

Instead of answering, he stormed towards the door, flinging it open. On his way out, he snarled, “Find a way to fix this. I don’t care what you say. There is always a way.”

Aphrodite rolled her eyes to herself. There was a way; he was right.

But Hades needed to let loose a little. And Persephone needed to grow up. Their partnership would mellow each other out. Hades would keep her grounded, and Persephone would let him dream. They could help each other.

This was a coincidence, yes. And Aphrodite hadn’t intended this.

But it was a happy coincidence, and no matter what Hades said or did, she wasn’t taking it back. She believed in love too strongly for that.

 

~

 

_(Present)_

Despite all his promises to himself, Hades could not stop looking at Persephone. She had agreed to stay with him, and now here she was, standing in the front room of his home and staring around with wide, amazed eyes. And gods, she was just so beautiful. Her brandy eyes were shining, her lips turned up with a smile sweet enough to warm any cold man’s heart. She barely seemed to know what to do with herself, her arms hanging uselessly at her sides, face upturned so that she could see everything. And Hades supposed there was a lot to see.

His palace was a strange place for most people. It was enormous, far larger than Aphrodite’s flashy apartment, with sleek marble floors and columns holding up the ceilings. The entrance held a giant staircase, which led up to his bedroom, study, bathroom, library and drawing room. On the ground floor was the enormous kitchen and living room. He had lost count of most of the rooms over the years, and if someone was hiding in his palace, the chances of him realising were one million to one.

He watched her watching, and he couldn’t stop smiling. This was an innocent kind of love, a quiet adoration. She was doing nothing but standing there, and he was doing nothing but observing, but somehow, the air was heavy with emotion. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to keep her here forever.

But she was not a prize, and he was not an animal.

“It’s beautiful,” said Persephone, her voice dripping with delight. She turned to look at him, and her face split into a grin. “How many rooms does this place have?”

He almost smiled back. Almost. “I’ve, uh…lost count.”

“Wow.” She looked back at his home, still grinning, dimples deep and precious. “I could see myself living in a place like this. You’re not looking for a wife, are you?”

His cheeks flushed, and he was thankful that she was looking away. “Um, no. I’m not. Er. That is. Not actively. Or at all. Or ever.”

She rolled her eyes. “Stop being awkward.” Then she stepped forwards, making her way towards the stairs without giving him a second glance.

He swallowed. She was heading upstairs. Upstairs, where his personality lay. Where he had his books and his work and his bed and everything he needed. Something about the breach on his personal life was thrilling. It was as though she was worming her way into his head, seeing everything he kept there, from his hopes and dreams to his fears and nightmares.

“Where, um. Where are you going?” he managed to say, quickly following her. He was so much taller than her, so it was easy to catch up. 

“I’m exploring,” said Persephone. “Which room do you spend the most time in?”

He almost laughed. He never had any spare time; the room he spent the most time in was his throne room. Not that he’d tell her that. He was already intimidating a god enough without her realising the true extent of his job and how it consumed his life. Spending one’s time with the dead for thousands of years took a toll on their personality. Once upon a time, Hades had been as smiley and positive as his brothers, if more logical and serious. Now, he was a sarcastic, bitter old man who despised everything and everyone. It wasn’t for no reason.

Instead of saying all of this, Hades said, “Um.”

Persephone shot him a beautiful grin. They were nearly at the top of the stairs now, and in clear view of the statue he kept at the top of the first staircase. It was marble, a sculpture of his dog. Who, he realised with a degree of alarm, was going to be dangerously overexcited when he met a new person.

“You don’t speak much, do you?” said Persephone.

Hades almost ‘umm’d again but caught himself just in time. Instead, he muttered, “Don’t usually have people to speak to.”

She nodded solemnly. “Must be a lonely job.”

“It is,” he said. “Very much so.”

She eyed him as though she was trying to decide what to think. Then she shrugged, looked away, and bounded up the stairs to look at the statue of Cerberus. She reached out to stroke his face, smiling softly.

“You like dogs,” she stated.

It wasn’t a question, but he answered anyway: “I am a dog person.”

“I heard you have a giant dog.”

“I do.”

“Does he have a name?”

“Spot.”

Persephone faced him again, raising an eyebrow. She looked so incredulous, Hades wanted to laugh, or kiss her, or both. He sighed internally. The effects of Aphrodite’s arrow were starting to get worse. At this rate, he was going to end up doing something very, very stupid in the next few weeks. Something to give Demeter a reason to kill him. He would hide in the Underworld, he decided. There were only a few more summit meetings surrounding the Titans. Once they were done, he would go back home, and he would never emerge again. His heart could shut the fuck up. He could be passively in love. It would be better that way.

“You named your giant, three-headed dog _Spot_?” asked Persephone.

“He’s technically called Spotted,” said Hades, suddenly feeling ridiculously self-conscious for someone who controlled every dead person in existence. “That’s what Cerberus means. It’s because he has a white spot under his chin.”

Persephone laughed, a full, hearty laugh, and Hades’ heart ached.

“You’re such a nerd!” said Persephone, giggling. She reached out and playfully punched Hades’ arm. It was the lightest touch in the universe, but it sent thrills down his spine. She had touched him. She was in his home, laughing because of his dog, and she had just touched him. Passively in love, he reminded himself. Passive means no activity. “I can’t believe the big bad God of the Underworld named his dog Spot. You’re so cute, Hades.”

Oh shit. Oh fuck. She called him cute.

Abort mission. Route or no route, she definitely had to go, and soon.

Hades was so distracted that he didn’t notice her turning left and sprinting up the other staircase until she made it to the landing. He followed her as fast as he could. She stood there, looking from left to right, before deciding on the first door in front of her.

His bedroom.

Without asking, she opened the door and stepped inside. It was a fairly plain room, though it was large enough to fit a house inside. It was full of bookshelves and painting easels and decorated with soft illustrations of Mount Olympus all over the walls. The ceiling was also an illustration, neoclassical and depicting all of the Big Twelve.

Persephone’s jaw dropped.

“Did you paint all of this?” she demanded, eyeing the ceiling, walls, and the easels all around them.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I get bored sometimes.”

He had never shown anyone his paintings before. Hecate knew he painted, but he never allowed her to see any of it. Thanatos was too busy being Death to care. Persephone would be the first.

He had a sudden vision of her sitting on a stool, staring off into the distance whilst he painted her, capturing the curve of her jaw and the soft look in her eyes. She was as beautiful as a painting to him; that kind of beauty was one he should preserve.

“I had no idea you could…I mean, you don’t seem…” She frowned, trying to search for the correct phrasing. “Creative,” she finished lamely.

Hades smiled—actually smiled—at her. “When you’ve got time on your hands and you’re frustrated and angry at the universe, painting helps to ease the tension. I can be creative. Sometimes. Not, er, all the time. It comes and goes—art blocks, you know, sometimes I need to be inspired, and sometimes there is no inspiration, so it…well, you know. It’s not as good as it could be, I suppose, I know I’ve got a lot to improve. But, er, most people don’t see it, so er, I can get away with it being bad—um, sorry about the mess, the easels, er, they’re not finished—”

“Hades,” Persephone interrupted. 

He looked at her, meeting her eyes with a worried expression. “Persephone.”

“They’re beautiful,” she said, and the sincerity in her voice made him want to curl up into a ball and cry. “Seriously. I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from people all this time.”

“Yeah,” he said awkwardly. “Guess I’m just…um…secretive.”

Better than saying ‘shy’ or ‘awkward’ or ‘socially inept thanks to spending my life underground surrounded by people who are afraid of me’.

They stared at one another as they trailed into silence. There was nothing more that was said on the subject of painting. They just looked at each other. It was probably the most intense staring contest Hades had ever had. Considering the fact the only other staring contests he’d ever had were with souls who wouldn’t listen to him, that wasn’t exactly difficult.

Persephone moved forwards, and to his amazement, sat down on the edge of his bed, watching him with glinting eyes. She looked like she was about to proposition him, which made him unfortunately excited.

_Calm down. Control yourself._

“What’s your favourite colour?” Persephone said.

Hades stared at her. His favourite colour? Why was she asking that? It seemed a bit random after the discussions about art. Didn’t it? Did he even have a favourite colour?

He swallowed. “Um. Why?” 

She smiled at him sweetly. “Because I’m in your house.”

She didn’t elaborate.

He said, “Okay, you’ve lost me.”

“I’m in your house,” she repeated, “and I don’t know much about you. Your favourite colour seems like a good start. So what’s your favourite colour?”

_Brandy-brown._

“Grey.”

Persephone leaned forwards, peering at him as though looking for a lie in his face. She apparently didn’t find one, because instead of acting suspicious, she acted confused.

“Grey is the most boring colour there is,” she said. “It’s drab and dull and useless. What’s the point? It’s in the middle of black and white, it’s not even a proper colour.”

He felt slightly hurt. His eyes were grey. 

“I don’t think it’s boring,” he said, offended. “Grey is everywhere. It can be anything. The sea is grey sometimes; so is the sky. Grey is a mood, grey is age. Grey is everything and everyone. It’s the colour nobody notices, but without grey, where would we be?”

Persephone gazed at him curiously, leaning forwards once again. Her eyes were trained on his, flicking from one to the other.

“Wow,” she said.

He felt rather gratified. He was grateful that finally, somebody understood.

“Wow, that is really fucking pretentious,” she added.

Oh. 

He almost pouted but refrained.

“It’s not pretentious,” he argued.

“Yes, it is,” she answered. “Grey is a colour, dude. It’s not a mood and it’s not age. It’s a colour. And if you don’t mind, I’m not grey either.” She paused. “My favourite colour is green.”

“That’s hardly surprising,” he said. “Everything in your life is green. Plants, the eco-system, sickness, even tiredness could be counted as—”

“I like green because the Hulk is green,” said Persephone.

Hades stared at her. “Who the hell is the Hulk?”

“He’s an Avenger.”

“What’s an Avenger?”

“A group of superheroes in some comic books.”

He stared even harder. “What is a comic book?”

She shook her head, and she looked like she might actually cry. Oh dear. Had he offended her? Was a comic book some kind of ancient object he was unaware of, something she admired or worshipped? It could be related to her as a goddess; he didn’t know much about her in that area. What if he’d just told her she didn’t matter by insulting comic books?

“I’m sorry,” he said automatically. “I didn’t intend to offend you. I’m sure comic books are very important—I’m just quite ignorant and I don’t know much about—well, ah, you get the point. I’m sure the Avengers are great and noble people.”

But then he realised that she was shaking, too, and it dawned on him. She wasn’t crying. She was trying desperately to hold in her laughter.

“You’re such an old man!” she finally snapped, bursting into hysterical fits of giggles. He’d never seen her laugh like this before. She clutched her own waist, gasping as she tried to control and contain herself. “I’m in such an old man’s house! Oh my goodness!”

He crossed his arms, frowning. “It’s not that funny.”

But she seemed to think otherwise, because she fell off the bed, still laughing. Hades gasped, rushing towards her and trying to help her up. She shook her head. He thought she was trying to say, “I’m fine, really” but every time she opened her mouth to get the words out, her body literally heaved with laughter. She tried to lift herself up, balancing on his legs so that she could sit up. She wiped her tears away, finally calming down enough to speak coherently.

“I’m sorry, I just—fuck, you’re funny.”

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

She smiled at him, shaking his head. And to his absolute amazement, shock and slight horror, she leaned up and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Thrills shot down his spine. His heart raced painfully in his chest. His pulse was faster than a stampede of animals. 

_Fucking shitting hell fuck_ , his brain said.

_She just kissed me._

_She just—actually—she just—just—what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck._

And as though it didn’t mean anything at all, she said, quite calmly, “How long will it take the routes to change?”

Hades gawped. He was sure he’d gone bright red. She had moved away now, and was leaning against one of the posts of the bed, watching him curiously.

“I—um—ah—” he said. 

Terrified, he jumped up from the floor, half-running towards the door.

“A few hours! You can sleep here! I’ll sleep downstairs!” he half-shouted at her.

Then he dashed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He leaned against it, taking long, deep breaths of air. His clothes felt too hot, too restrictive. His skin itched all over. If he were a normal man in love with a normal woman, he would simply feel happy and nervous and all the normal things. But he was a god who had been shot with an arrow of love, and every touch from her was electric. Her kiss was lightening and his skin was water. She was setting him on fire. 

Talking to her, as Aphrodite had suggested, was not helping. Because at the moment, Hades felt more alive and more out of control than ever.

And a part of him didn’t ever want to let Persephone leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for not updating yesterday. Usually I update quite late, and last night I was busy going to see the midnight release of Avengers: Infinity War (it was amazing, if you're curious) and had to walk all the way back from the city, so I got back at 5AM. Totally worth it.
> 
> This chapter was pretty rushed because I have deadlines tomorrow, but hopefully it's still okay. We're nearly at 100 reads! I'm gobsmacked, thank you all so much for reading!! X


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone explores.

Persephone didn’t sleep. As if she would. She was in the Underworld, a place of death and mystery—and more importantly, she was in Hades’ home. Why waste time sleeping when she could be exploring?

As soon as he ran out of the room (which was weird, by the way; what was wrong with this guy?), Persephone stood up and started examining the room more closely. He’d obviously taken great pains to make it more pleasant, decorating the walls with warm colours and adding enough personal touches to make it obvious who the room belonged to. The bedsheets were all tangled up and messy (did he have trouble sleeping?), and the mattress was half-covered in sheets of paper. Persephone picked one of these up to find that they were all sketches of the same scene. A meadow, with a woman kneeling beside one of the flowers. They were all vague and scribbled, more doodles than anything else, but it was clear what he was doing. He was trying to work out how he wanted his next painting to look. And by the looks of it, it was going to be a big one.

On the bedside table, he had left his mobile phone (horrendously old-fashioned; he really was an old man) and several boxes of paracetamol and ibuprofen. Clearly, he got headaches. He’d also left what looked a lot like a letter. Persephone turned to the door, wondering whether he was going to come back. He had bid her goodnight, but what if he chose to come and apologise first? She frowned, biting her lip. If he left something in plain sight, she reasoned, it couldn’t be that important. Could it?

She picked up the letter.

‘ _Mother_ ,’ it read in a neat, elegant scrawl. 

‘ _I am aware of the situation. There’s no need to worry; I’m attending all the meetings, and I’ve spoken with Zeus. He isn’t relenting yet, but he agrees that something must be done. Athene has suggested a compromise, a deal, perhaps, but Zeus dislikes the idea. He distrusts it. You can understand. Father has had a lot of time to grow bitter, and if he was to blame anyone, it would be Zeus. We’re trying to work on a tiebreaker. But for the moment, I think you should assume there will be no compromise. I shall keep you updated._

_In regards to your other question, no, I have not seen Atlas yet. I think visiting would be a bad idea. He hasn’t been in the best of spirits recently, and my presence may fuel the fire even more. But you’re right. If he isn’t calmer, the world will suffer. Thanatos has offered to visit him instead, and I think it’s a good idea. If anyone can calm Atlas, it will be him._

_I understand your concerns regarding the Fates, and I will do all in my power to delay their visit. We have to find a way to stop them before something bad happens. You know their feelings on the gods; they’re beginning to tire of our existence. It won’t be long now. Humanity has little need for the others anymore. You know that as well as I do._

_I’m doing my best. It’s difficult. You know how I feel about the family and seeing them so often is causing problems. I need time to rethink my approach. We have no time for mistakes. Not now, not ever._

_Don’t speak of this to Father._

_Your son,_

_ᾍδης.’_

Persephone frowned down at the sheet of paper, turning it over in her hands. A letter to his mother shouldn’t be any cause for concern, but the contents of that letter were slightly disconcerting. What was the situation Hades was talking about? What was going on with Atlas? And what the hell did the Fates have to do with this?

Her frown deepened further. Hades was in contact with Rhea. Rhea was his mother, yes, but she was also a Titan. No god was allowed any contact with the Titans; gods were easy for Titans to manipulate, especially the ones in the basement. If any other god discovered Hades’ involvement, he would be brought to justice before Zeus. He would end up with a harsh punishment. Or maybe they’d just kill him. Zeus could do that, and there were so many minor gods; it would be so easy to replace Hades’ position as God of the Underworld.

Persephone slowly put the letter down, stepping away from it. This was none of her business. She didn’t know Hades. Demeter had already warned her about him, and now these warnings made sense. It would be better if she ignored it all. 

She turned around, trying to find something else to explore. She didn’t need to know about the politics. She was a minor goddess who was seen as little more than a girl. Persephone’s fate would be the same as any other minor god; she would work like a mortal, perhaps even among the mortals, and she would live a simple, ordinary life. She would remain under the radar, known for nothing but her heritage. She wasn’t like Zeus or Hades or Demeter. People wouldn’t look twice at her.

As she was thinking this, she noticed something strange about one of the walls. There was a faint outline cutting up the illustrations, as though someone had drilled a hole into the wall. Except the hole was a rectangle, and it was obviously a door.

Curious, Persephone knelt beside it, digging her fingernails down under the strange outline. It wouldn’t budge. She frowned.

“Come on,” she said out loud. “Open sesame.”

It didn’t move.

She debated finding Hades and just asking him how to open it, but she wasn’t sure whether he’d like her snooping. It was his bedroom, after all. She was just some girl he was trying to help—he probably pitied her. 

Instead, she sat there and poked it, prodding the outline of what she assumed was a secret door. “Open up,” she said. “Hey, Mr. Door. It’s me, Persephone. Could you—”

She stopped. The wall swung open suddenly. 

Persephone stared.

“Well,” she said, grinning. “I don’t know what I did, but thanks.”

She probably shouldn’t be talking to a secret door, but she didn’t really care. The door was small, just small enough to crawl through, and led into complete blackness. Persephone reached for her phone, turning it on. She wanted to use the torch, but she hesitated when she saw the notifications glaring accusingly from her cracked screen.

 

**(9) Missed Calls from Mom.** __

_**_(5) Missed Calls from Di._** ___

__**_Mom (21:25):_** _Where are you?__ _

__**_Mom (21:34):_** _Are you okay?__ _

__**_Mom (22:01):_** _Daphne said you’re not working tonight. Call me immediately.__ _

__**_Di (22:09):_** _Your mother called. She’s worried. Where are you???__ _

__**_Di (23:03):_** _Athena’s tracked your phone. You’re with Hades??!? If you don’t call me in the next 15 minutes I’m telling Demeter.__ _

__**_Mom (23:19):_ ** _WHAT THE HELL DID I TELL YOU? YOU’RE IN BIG TROUBLE YOUNG LADY HOW DARE YOU DISOBEY ME LIKE TH…_ _ _

__

__Persephone cringed. Fuck. She was starting to wonder whether she should stay in the Underworld forever. At least then she wouldn’t have to face her mother’s fury. She knew, and she wasn’t going to believe Persephone’s explanation. She wasn’t going to believe Persephone at all, and Hades even less. She was going to die. Great. She felt like a teenager who’d been caught dating some bad boy behind her mother’s back, only she was an adult, and she wasn’t dating anybody at all, and Hades was about as bad as a bumblebee._ _

__She checked the time. It was now 23:58. Demeter had probably sent an army to the Underworld. Persephone wouldn’t be surprised if she heard Hades screaming._ _

__She should text her mom. She knew she should. But something stopped her. Persephone was not a child anymore. She was doing a degree, for goodness’ sake. She had a job. She was managing her own money, sorting out her own life, saving up for her own apartment on the outskirts of the city. Demeter’s reaction was absolutely ridiculous and unnecessary and completely uncalled for. Persephone had a right to do whatever she wanted to do. It wasn’t her fault Demeter was ridiculously overprotective._ _

__As Persephone thought, her phone buzzed in her hand:_ _

__

__**_Mom (23:59):_** _Hermes is coming to get you. If you don’t go with him, we’re going to have a serious problem.__ _

__

__Persephone set her jaw. Eyes flashing, she turned off her ringer and turned on her torch. Hermes couldn’t come—not for a while. The routes hadn’t yet changed. Persephone had until at least morning to work through her thoughts and warn Hades. She would crash at Dionysus’s, she decided, when the routes changed. She didn’t want to go home._ _

__Without another thought, Persephone climbed through the secret door and into the pitch-black passageway._ _

__Shining her torch around the room provided her with a small sense of her surroundings, though it wasn’t much. The dark room was actually a hallway, with stone floors and stone walls. She could hear a strange dripping noise coming from deep within. Was it an underground place? Damp and dark and strange? Should she really venture down here?_ _

__“This is how people die in horror movies,” she said, and her voice echoed. She shrugged to herself. “Fuck it,” she said, and started to walk forwards._ _

__The passageway seemed to go on forever. She walked and walked and walked, trying not to be reminded of how she’d come to be in the Underworld in the first place. With every thud of her sneakers on the cold hard floor came an echo. She felt like she was walking straight into the maw of a monster. It would swallow her whole. And would she really care? What was the use in being immortal if you didn’t go on a few adventures?_ _

__As she walked along the hallway, she started to hear something. It sounded bizarrely like crying._ _

__Persephone frowned to herself, continuing down the passageway, trying to be quieter this time. She turned down the brightness on her torch, moving very slowly._ _

__Yes. It was definitely someone crying. A woman crying, to be specific._ _

__Persephone was uncertain as to whether or not she should call out. This was the Underworld; it was probably a shade. She didn’t want another situation like the one she’d narrowly avoided before. She would rather not be eaten by hungry ghosts._ _

__But that crying sounded separate and strange. The voices she’d heard before had felt so disconnected, and yet they’d felt like they were part of her. The noises had burrowed right inside her head, whispering things into the centre of her brain. This crying was not like that. It was not in her head, and it didn’t sound disconnected. Instead, it sounded like a real, breathing person, someone who was trapped down here alone._ _

__Oh, shit. What if it was a mortal woman? Or a minor god? What if Hades lured women to the Underworld with the shades, jumping in to conveniently save them at the last minute? What if he trapped them down here, leaving them to die in the shadows so that his kingdom would expand? What if he was a crazy murderer who wanted her head?_ _

__She shuddered._ _

__She sounded like her mother. What was there to be afraid of?_ _

__Taking a breath, Persephone called out softly: “Hello?”_ _

__The crying stopped. It was so abrupt, Persephone considered turning and running back the way she’d come. But then it started again, and she knew she had to keep going._ _

__The passageway came to a turning, and she went left._ _

__And there she was. A woman, kneeling on the floor, holding her head in her hands and staring, wide-eyed, into space._ _

__“Hello?” Persephone said again, lowering her torch. The woman looked ghostly in its low light, her face pale and unearthly. “You all right?”_ _

__The woman didn’t even look at her, though she stopped crying again. Persephone took a few steps forwards, taking a moment to examine her. Her eyes were black and too large for her face; her plump lips were open and quivering. When Persephone got a little closer, she realised that they weren’t quivering at all; the woman was speaking in fast, hushed whispers._ _

__“Curse you, curse you, curse everything about you, I cannot see, I see all, you have destroyed me, my beautiful sun, the world, the skies, you burn too brightly, curse you…”_ _

__Persephone frowned. This woman was clearly crazy. Something about her words reminded her of something, of someone._ _

__“Curse who?” she said gently. “Who are you?”_ _

__“Apollo, Apollo, Apollo, curse him, curse you, you have destroyed my heart and my mind, my soul quivers, I cannot see but I see all and I cannot think, I am mad, I am feverish, I am everything and nothing and you terrify me, you delight me, Apollo, curse you, curse you…”_ _

__Persephone took a deep breath. She was going to regret this. Slowly, she lowered herself to the floor, kneeling before the kneeling woman. She placed her phone down beside the two of them so that the torchlight shone upwards, showering them in white. Persephone stared at the woman, but the woman seemed to look right through her, her giant eyes seeing something else. She was shaking, rocking back and forth, still muttering to herself, cursing Apollo for her sight. Was she blind, perhaps? It would explain the I cannot see. But she said she could see all, too. What did it mean?_ _

__“What’s your name?” asked Persephone, keeping her voice soft. “My name is Kore.”_ _

__“A girl standing alone, gazing up at the skies, she sees everything she fears and everything she loves, the world is everything to her, the galaxy awaits her, she feels free and beautiful and a woman standing alone, crying to herself, she is a failure and she will never be more, she has failed everything and her mother despises her, a girl looking upwards, searching for her husband among the stars, he is always watching, he wants her to be safe, he cannot will not should not tell her how he feels, the girl is all alone in the world, she must be something more, the trio stands by and watches from afar, they’ll kill us all, they want us dead, they despise the few and small…”_ _

__Persephone stared at her. Damn, she really was crazy. What was she talking about?_ _

__“I’m Kore,” she said again, trying to gain the woman’s attention. “Who are you? Can you tell me your name?”_ _

__“I’m all that was and all that will ever be, I see all,” the woman gasped. Tears were streaming down her face, but she didn’t even blink. She sounded breathless and desperate, still rocking back and forth, still clutching her own face. “Apollo sees a girl, she is so beautiful, he wants her so much, she is all alone in the damp and the dark, she is the daughter of war and bone, what happened to Troy? Helen, Helen, what have you done?”_ _

__“Helen?” repeated Persephone. “Is that you?”_ _

__The woman moaned. “No Helen, no Helen, whore, bitch, she caused it all, she caused it all, Apollo sees the future and knows that she is the cause—”_ _

__“You’re Helen?” Persephone tried again._ _

__The woman shook her head. “The girl Apollo wants, she looks at him, she finds his prophecies, will Helen kill us all? How do you know? It is all a prophecy, sweet maiden, all a future I can foresee, you can have that power too if you welcome me inside your body…”_ _

__Ah. This woman wasn’t Helen. Persephone had a fairly good idea who she was, but it was only confirmed when the woman continued rambling._ _

__“She agrees, she wants to see, she wants to see all, she wants to be like her beloved, poor, stupid Cassandra, too proud to let him in, her body is her own, he is furious, she has betrayed his wishes, he screams at her and throws her into the fires, she sees all I see all I see nothing but everything Apollo will cry and she will sigh and the trio stands by and watches from afar, they’ll kill us all, they want us dead, they despise the few and small, a woman standing alone crying to herself, she is a failure, where is the lord of the dead, bring him to me, bring him to me, he loves me, he loves, he needs, his heart is empty and cold Apollo burns too brightly, this is your fault Cassandra, you promised and now you will pay the price, you do not turn down a god, Persephone sits in judgement she is too harsh she is frightening she terrifies the living and the dead—”_ _

__“Wait, what?” Persephone interrupted. Why was this woman—Cassandra—talking about her? Why was she calling her Persephone?_ _

__“He has been hit! He has been shot!” Cassandra cried. “The trio wants her dead, he wants her to himself, he will take her and kill them all, he is the villain, a villain, a monster, a man, a god, a trier, Apollo burns too brightly, the trio stands by and watches from afar, they’ll kill us all, they want us dead, they despise the few and small…”_ _

__Damn it. Persephone wanted to grab her, shake her silly until she finally explained what she was talking about. Her rants were vague and confusing, but they were rants of prophecy. She was talking about the past, the present and the future. She was trying so hard to get a point across, but she was too confusing, too puzzling. Persephone didn’t understand._ _

__“Death!” screamed Cassandra, pulling at her hair, now rocking so violently, she almost hit the floor. “Red everywhere! Red red red! Agamemnon, Agamemnon, you murdered her, you killed her, a young girl cries for her father as she faces Achilles, she feels something in the air, everything is wrong the gods watch but say nothing, oh! Oh! Oh! Athene, Athene, please help her, please, she is a child she is a child she is a child, she will murder you for your crimes. The trio wants her dead, he wants her to himself, he will take her and kill them all, the trio, oh, oh, oh! Red! Death! It rains from the heavens, Apollo burns too brightly, Cassandra, Cassandra, oh Helen, it is all your fault, oh! Oh! Patroclus, please stop him, embrace him in death, kiss the pain from his eyes, he must stop this, he must, oh! Father! Oh! Father! Please, Patroclus, please, Patroclus, kiss the pain away, kiss the cruelty away, please, Achilles, please…”_ _

__And suddenly, she stopped. She stopped rocking back and forth, she stopped staring into space, and she stopped ranting. Her eyes focused on Persephone. Recognition tick-tocked over her face, and she stared at Persephone as though she wanted to die. Instead, she fell forwards, fingernails digging into Persephone’s shoulders. It was painful, but Persephone was too shocked, and Cassandra too strong. Cassandra surged forwards, her grip tightening even more as she gazed up into Persephone’s face._ _

__“They are coming,” she whispered. “They are coming, they are coming.”_ _

__“Who?” Persephone gasped back. She was surprised to find her own eyes stinging. Cassandra’s performance had broken her. “Who’s coming?”_ _

__Cassandra shook her head, weeping uncontrollably. “I can’t see it! I can’t tell! They are coming…they are coming…no, please, Apollo, please let me, please, she must know, she—”_ _

__She stopped again. And without warning, she completely vanished into thin air._ _

__Persephone stared at her hands, which had been trying to push Cassandra away only moments before. They were now empty. She took a few deep breaths, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. Cassandra had been trying to warn her. But of what? And why? Who was coming? Who the hell was the ‘trio’?_ _

__What had happened to Cassandra?_ _

__She swallowed. Okay. So that had happened. That was a thing. A scary thing. Shakily, Persephone picked herself up from the floor, standing on unsteady legs. She was shaking all over. Her skin was completely covered in gooseflesh. When she bent down to retrieve her phone from the floor, however, she did not feel afraid, but determined._ _

__Something was going on. As the only person who knew that something was going on, she had a duty to find out. Yes, she was a minor goddess, and yes, she was technically supposed to be worrying over college. But right now, she had bigger problems._ _

__She took a deep breath._ _

__“Okay,” she said to herself. “Okay, let’s keep going.”_ _

__And as though she hadn’t just been absolutely terrified by a crazy prophet, Persephone continued walking through the passageway._ _

__The journey from here on out was not just a straight line. The passage twisted and turned, moving like a living being. Persephone was reminded of stories her mother used to tell her about labyrinths. She almost laughed. It was highly doubtful that Hades was keeping a minotaur in the secret passageway leading to his bedroom. Unless he wanted a minotaur in his bedroom. Each to their own, she supposed. It would explain why he hadn’t yet found a wife._ _

__Finally, the passageway ended. It ended, right at a giant, dark hole leading into some sort of underground place, black and grey and dark._ _

__Persephone shone her torch through the tunnel. She was only just able to see that it was leading down before the torch turned off completely._ _

__“Shit.”_ _

__She looked down at her phone, frowning as she tried to turn it on. It wouldn’t._ _

__Oh, gods. Her phone had died. Her phone had died, and she was in the darkest passageway/tunnel in existence. Shit, shit, shit. She should have waited. Should have gone back. Should have asked Hades about the secret door instead of using it herself._ _

__It was too late for that now._ _

__The only way forward was…well, forwards. Persephone took another deep breath, hoping there wasn’t a minotaur on the other side of this tunnel, and began climbing through. It was a difficult fit. She was a small enough woman, but it was a tiny tunnel. She had a sudden mental image of Hades trying to force himself through this entrance and getting stuck. It made her smile in the darkness and took the edge off her surroundings._ _

__The mud was starting to soil her pale jeans and floral shirt, but she paid that no mind. Instead, she continued squeezing herself through, grunting with the exertion. Was it her imagination or was the tunnel getting smaller the further along she went? It was getting more and more difficult for her to squeeze through, and she could see no exit in her line of vision. She was starting to worry that this tunnel led nowhere, and she would end up having to crawl backwards and find her way back to Hades’ bedroom in the dark._ _

__Finally, finally, she saw something—a flickering orange light, just out of reach. Persephone began to crawl faster, desperate to reach some kind of light. Her heart was beginning to thud in her chest, and her breathing was unsteady. She definitely didn’t need this. _Come on. Nearly there.__ _

__With one final groan, she forced herself through the exit, falling out onto rocky floor. She grazed her nose and cheek on it and winced. _Ouch.__ _

__She stood up, looking around her. The strange light was coming from somewhere in front of her, and she decided it made the most sense to make her way towards that. So she continued walking, her footsteps careful. She could only just about make out that she was balancing on rocks. Underneath her shoes, the jagged formations were fairly slippery. Slipping and falling to her death was not on her bucket list, and so she made sure to be extra careful as she tiptoed along the stone._ _

__When she reached the edge of a canyon, she only just managed to stop herself from falling right into the fiery depths. The light, as it turned out, was not light at all. It was lava. She was standing on the edge of a cliff leading to a fiery canyon of death. Just her luck._ _

__In the very centre of the lava was what looked like an absolutely enormous black box. She couldn’t see what was inside, but it looked like some kind of cage. There was no way in, but there was a path of stone separating the lava and leading towards it. The cage was down another drop. She realised, then, that there was only one place she knew of that fit this particular description. Tartarus._ _

__Persephone didn’t trust herself not to fall, leaning down like this. Carefully, she lowered herself down, sitting on the edge and barely daring to swing her legs.  
Okay, so this situation was not ideal._ _

__She had no way of getting back. She had no idea how to get back. Hades didn’t know she was here. And exploring had led her right to the worst place in the Underworld._ _

__Fan-fucking-tastic._ _

__It took her a long moment to realise someone was sitting next to her._ _

__Persephone gave a shriek, and would have fallen right into the lava pit below if she hadn’t managed to grip the rocks around her. Thankfully, she managed to not die a horrible death in the depths of the Underworld. The person beside her didn’t even give her a spare glance, which she found quite rude._ _

__She observed them._ _

__She was a woman, very beautiful in a ghostly sort of way, with grey skin and white eyes. Her dark hair fell in thick braids over her shoulders. Her hands and wrists were covered in bangles and rings, and she was dressed in long black robes. Around her neck was a giant, sleepy snake, which made Persephone shudder._ _

__“Um,” said Persephone. “Hi?”_ _

__“Hello,” the woman said dreamily. “The Underworld gets few visitors. Are you a friend of Hades’?”_ _

__Persephone swallowed. This woman was strange and unusual, but there was something bizarrely calming about her presence. She was as still as a statue, her lips barely moving as she uttered the words, and yet she was a soothing entity._ _

__Persephone said, “Sure, I suppose you could say that.”_ _

__“I will say that,” said the woman, still in that dreamy voice. “If you were not his friend, you would not be here.” She was smiling, and it looked so knowing. Persephone knew that this woman was honest. Somehow. “You are Persephone?”_ _

__Persephone was going to have to get used to people calling her that. Everyone on Mount Olympus called her Kore. Hades was the first to call her Persephone—then Cassandra, and now this woman. It was almost unnerving._ _

__“Yes,” said Persephone._ _

__The woman glanced at her, her head moving so slowly, it was like watching a snail run a marathon. Her eyes seemed to see everything. They undid her, unravelled her. Persephone felt vulnerable under her gaze. “Hades was right. You are quite a soulful girl.”_ _

__She looked away again, her expression still unchanged. The smile was unnerving._ _

__“He called me ‘soulful’?” Persephone repeated. She wasn’t sure how that made her feel. Hades was obviously the kind of man who selected his friends and enemies with careful thought and planning but calling her ‘soulful’? It seemed so emotional. He seemed too logical._ _

__“He has called you many things,” said the woman. “He is yet to call you other things.”_ _

__Persephone had no answer, and so she said nothing._ _

__“Trouble is in the air, Persephone,” the woman said quietly. “They are coming.”_ _

__“Who?” asked Persephone._ _

__“The Moirai,” she said. “The Moirai are coming, and the Titans are waking. Apollo has prophesised war. Do you know what else he has prophesised?”_ _

__“No.”_ _

__“You,” said the woman, and she turned to look at her again. “Your story is only just beginning, Persephone. You will need a lot more than a soul to live up to fate.” To Persephone’ surprise, the woman leaned over and placed her hand over hers. Her smile changed, ever so slightly. “Secrets and hidden circumstances must be discovered. You know enough already; you cannot back out of this now. You must uncover the truth, and hide other truths. Persephone, you are the High Priestess.”_ _

__Persephone raised an eyebrow. “What’s that?”_ _

__“A tarot card,” said the woman. “You are the hidden influencer. You pull more strings than you know. Discoveries must be kept to yourself if you want to survive.”_ _

__She let go of her, giving a soft sigh._ _

__“I’m going to transport you back to Hades now,” she murmured. “You have been gone for too long. Helping Hades is advised.” She paused. “I will give you some advice before you go. Will you take it?”_ _

__Persephone nodded dumbly._ _

__“There are many paths and many prophecies,” the woman said, “but the self is influenced by no one. Hold on to your soulfulness. The Moirai are not nearly as powerful as they make out to be. Now, stay still.”_ _

__Persephone did as she was told. She didn’t know why. Something about this woman just made her want to obey._ _

__But she had to ask. “Who are you?”_ _

__“My name is Hecate,” said the woman. “Good luck, Persephone.”_ _

__And without another word, Hecate clapped her hands together, and Persephone was gone._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaand the tension is building. What's going to happen next? 
> 
> I was kind of emulating Aeschylus' Agamemnon with Cassandra in this chapter, which made it a bit difficult, considering just how confusing that scene in Agamemnon is. Everything will start making more sense in future chapters, don't worry.
> 
> What did you think? Let me know!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and Persephone talk prophecies and frustrations.

“I haven’t done anything,” Hades hissed, jaw set and eyes flashing. “You can’t just storm down here full of accusations. That’s not how this works.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I believe you,” Hermes answered, squaring up. “You’ve always done something. It’s why you spend your life hiding down here instead of trying to make up for your mistakes. You’re a coward, Hades, and—”

“A coward? _You_ just called _me_ a coward?”

“ _I’m_ not a coward! I’m trying to do my job!”

“You’re trying to stir up trouble! You know as well as I do what a paranoid fool Demeter is, and yet you’ll take her word over anyone’s, you see-through little-”

They were cut off by the sound of a door opening. The two men turned from where they’d been glowering at each other, watching as the door to Hades’ bedroom swung open to reveal a dishevelled-looking Persephone. Her clothes were completely covered in mud and dirt. She’d managed to drag a brush through her hair, but it was still even messier than usual. On her face were several smudges, as though she’d been covered in ash but had tried to wash it off. Her eyes were glinting and unreadable.

“Hey,” she said simply. “How’s it going?”

Hades thought, _I want to marry this woman._

“There you are!” cried Hermes, practically pushing Hades out of the way in a rush to reach her. He grabbed her by the shoulders, dragging her forwards into an uncomfortable hug, and Hades felt a surge of jealousy and possessiveness making his heart clench. “Oh, you silly girl, what were you thinking? Your mother’s been worried sick. Why are you here? Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”

Hades simmered in rage, but he had no chance to say anything, because Persephone spoke before he could.

“Of course he fucking didn’t,” Persephone snapped, pushing Hermes off her and glaring at him furiously. “He’s the God of the Underworld, not the God of Douchebaggery.”  


“That’s Dionysus,” Hades said quietly.

__

“True, but shut up,” Persephone said, pointing at him without even glancing in his direction.

He couldn’t help smirking. She was angry, clearly, but she was so…cute. She was a tiny ball of rage. He didn’t even know what had annoyed her. He just knew that she, a goddess of spring and flowers and all things cute and sweet, was currently squaring up to one of the major gods whilst telling another to shut up. 

At this point, Hades wasn’t even sad that they could never happen. He probably didn’t deserve her anyway.

“Listen to me,” Persephone scolded. “I am an adult. I was in trouble and Hades helped me. I don’t care what my mother said, if Zeus himself asked you to bring me home I wouldn’t go. Who do you think you are, marching down here, walking right into someone’s home, just to tell me what to do? I’ll go home when I damned well please.”

Hermes blinked at her. He clearly knew Persephone, but she had obviously never spoken to him like this before. Hades didn’t blame his reaction. If his Persephone was shouting at him like that, he’d probably burst into tears.

“But—” Hermes tried.

“No,” said Persephone.

“Your mother—”

“No.”

“You’re not—”

“Take a wild guess at my answer.”

The two of them stared at each other. Hermes looked completely taken aback. Persephone looked absolutely furious. 

“My mother is not my carer,” Persephone said, her voice slightly less sharp this time. “I might be living under her roof, and sure, she might be my mom, but I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Contrary to popular belief, I’m a good judge of character, and he,” she pointed roughly at Hades again, “is not some evil overlord planning on kidnapping me. I’m here by my own free will, and I’ll leave when I damned well want to. Now please leave.”

Rant over, Persephone swiftly turned away from both men, stormed back into Hades’ bedroom, and slammed the door behind her.

The men stared after her, amazed, bewildered, and in Hades’ case, slightly turned on.

When he felt brave enough to speak, Hermes squeaked, “Um. Well. She’s certainly very sure about this, isn’t she? How did she even get here? What did you do, Hades?”

Hades rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. He was sick and tired of people thinking he was some malicious entity who wanted everyone dead. He did want everyone dead, but it was because he was grumpy and had a shitty family, not because he was plotting world domination.

“I found her stumbling through the woods in a little red cloak,” he said sarcastically. “I decided that the correct response was to kill the big bad wolf stalking her and drag her to my home, where we made sweet love all night long whilst I twirled my moustache and laughed maniacally. Tonight I’ll throw her into Tartarus as a sacrifice to the Titans.” 

Hermes scowled at him. “There’s no need to be a dick about it.”

“There’s no need to be a hypocrite, either,” Hades deadpanned. “Perhaps you should take her advice and leave.”

Hermes looked like he wanted to shout at him, or punch him, or both, but he didn’t. They were both powerful men, but Hades had spent his life defending himself. Hermes wouldn’t stand a chance, especially considering the notable difference in their physical sizes.

Instead, he crossed his arms, wrinkled his nose in disgust, and said, “And what do you suggest I tell Demeter, hmm?”

“Tell her I killed her daughter, released the Titans and sided with the Moirai,” said Hades, shrugging. In other words, Not my problem. “Now off you go. Go on, shoo. Cerberus hasn’t had a toy to chew in a while.”

Hermes shuddered. One of these days, he was going to talk to Zeus about that bloody dog. It wasn’t fair that Hades had something so dangerous obeying his every command. If he decided to turn on the gods—and he had enough reason to—every single one of them would end up eaten by the world’s stupidest animal. 

“Fine,” Hermes said. “But if Demeter herself comes storming down here demanding her daughter back, you’ll be the one dealing with it. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And on that note, he stormed out, glancing behind only to shoot Hades the filthiest look of the century. Hades stuck his tongue out in reply. 

As soon as he was gone, Hades strode towards his bedroom, knocking gently on the door. “Can I come in?” he asked, and mentally kicked himself. It’s my room. For goodness’ sake. She’s going to think there’s something wrong with me. 

“Yes. I need to talk to you, anyway,” Persephone called back. She sounded a lot calmer. Hades wasn’t sure whether to be disappointed or relieved.

He opened the door and walked inside.

She was sitting on his bed again, looking absolutely tiny against the headboard. She was charging her phone, frowning down at it as though she’d just seen something offensive. Hades closed the door behind him, wondering whether it would seem creepy if he locked it. There was a chance Demeter would come down here, and if she opened the door to find Persephone in Hades’ bed, she would probably freak out and assume the worst. Which would be about as funny as telling Aphrodite that Hera was more beautiful than her. Women. Hades just didn’t understand them.

Persephone glanced up when she heard him enter, shooting him a brilliant smile that made him melt. She was so distracting. One look from her could make him want to get on his knees and beg for mercy, because surely, surely the Fates had sent her here to punish him.

“Sorry about all that,” Hades apologised. “Sending Hermes was…excessive. But he’s the only god with full access to the Underworld. I presume Demeter’s next step will be to tell Zeus and get access from him instead. Then she’ll come down here with a sword.”

Persephone grinned in reply. She had dimples, and when she smiled, they were more obvious than ever. “A sword? More like a dragon,” she corrected, and then nodded at the bed. “Come sit down a second. We need to talk.”

Suddenly, the mood was serious. Hades swallowed. Perhaps he should feel more affronted at her ordering him about in his own room, but he only shrugged and accepted it, sinking down onto the mattress. Near enough, but not. He could never be near enough to her.

“You’re muddy,” he told her. As if she didn’t know. 

“Yeah,” she said. “About that. I may have opened that panel and gone into Tartarus.” She pointed at the secret door, which, he realised with a shock, was open. 

His jaw dropped. That door had not been opened for weeks. He had deliberately sealed it using Hecate’s magic, the strongest magic on Mount Olympus, knowing the danger it posed. And Persephone, a random girl who had almost been dragged into hell by shades, had somehow managed to get it open.

That was impossible.

She seemed to notice the look on his face, because she quickly explained everything that had happened. Apparently, she’d asked the door to open— _what the fuck_ —and it had, revealing the passageways into the depths of the Underworld. She’d met Cassandra—fucking _Cassandra_ —down there, and then she’d somehow made it to Tartarus with no torch, no direction and no guide. None of this should be possible, and yet it was.

She told him about the warnings, explaining everything Cassandra and Hecate had said. He listened closely, his eyes on her face the whole time, watching the different expressions flicker and change. She was clearly confused—confused, afraid, and even pissed off.

When she was done speaking, she stared right back at him, awaiting his response. Her eyes seemed to drill into him, seeing everything. He became undone under her gaze.

He sighed and murmured, “Cassandra does appear sometimes; that’s fairly normal. Whenever there’s a crisis, she manages to creep out from the shadows to give me a warning. The fact that she’d warn you, though…”

Persephone watched him carefully. “Do you believe her?”

“Well, of course not,” he scoffed. He almost rolled his eyes. “Cassandra is a babbling fool. ‘All alone in the world’? If she was talking about you, that’s bullshit. You have your mother. And every other god in existence. You will never be alone in the world, because stars, there are too many people in the world. That’s just ridiculous. And a trio wanting death? Who could she possibly be referring to?”

“The Moirai,” Persephone suggested. “Hecate mentioned them.”

“Hecate is a different story,” said Hades wisely. “She actually knows what she’s talking about. Now, listen to me. If Cassandra ever tells you something, it’s not true. Her curse is the eternal lie; she claims to see all, but she sees nothing but trickery.”

“She prophesied me, just like Apollo,” Persephone argued. “She saw me sitting in judgement. She said I terrified the living and the dead.”  
“Bullshit,” Hades said, waving a hand dismissively. “I terrify the living and the dead. I sit in judgement. That’s my job. The only way you’d have it is if…”

_We were married._

His eyes widened at his own thought. He felt his heart aching in his chest, and he got a sudden vision of her sitting beside him in a throne of her own, dark and beautiful and frightening. Persephone was made of flowers and light and beauty, but there was an edge to it, one he was very familiar with. She could be the Goddess of the Underworld. She could be his. He could kiss her at any given moment, thumb stroking across her jaw, teeth gently biting into her lips to leave a mark for everyone to see. 

He shook himself. Ridiculous. He was being stupid now. Cassandra’s prophecies were about as accurate as that mortal movie, Troy. As the man who ordered the ghosts of the characters around, he had heard more than enough of Achilles’ rants about that garbage. 

Persephone was watching him far too closely for his liking. Had she blinked at all as he’d been speaking? As he’d been thinking? He doubted it.

Softly, she said, “Cassandra mentioned you, too.”

_Oh, fuck._ Could she read minds? She couldn’t do that, could she? Right? That was impossible, even for gods. _Right?!_

Hades scoffed again, willing his blood not to rush to his face. “Probably Apollo messing with you. Whatever she said is probably more lies.”

Persephone didn’t tell him what Cassandra had said about him. She just continued to watch him, eyes flickering between his. Then she said, still in that soft voice, “Cassandra’s curse wasn’t ‘the eternal lie’. Her curse was to give prophecies no one would believe.”

“Well,” he said, “you clearly believe her.”

Persephone frowned, eyes flicking down to the space between them. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, and she drew her arms around herself as though cold.

“Yeah,” she said, still frowning. “That’s strange.” There was a pause. Then, “She was talking about Agamemnon. And she got his death right. So she can’t be a liar.”

“Agamemnon is history,” he said gently. “That is not prophecy, Persephone.”

“But nobody believed her when she predicted his death, and he died in the exact same way as she’d predicted. Clytemnestra murdered him, just as Cassandra said.”

“A guess,” suggested Hades.

“Not a guess,” she met his eyes steadily. “A prophecy. But people like you wouldn’t believe her. And look what happened? A guy died. She’s trying to warn us. Someone is coming, and if we listen to Hecate…well, she said the Moirai were coming. Maybe Cassandra was trying to say that.”

“And if she was, she probably overheard Hecate talking about it. Or Apollo. Persephone.” In a sudden, bold move, he reached over, letting his fingers gently graze over the back of her hand. It was barely a touch at all, but it was the most contact they’d had since she had kissed his cheek and scared him away. They both stared down at their hands. “It’s going to be all right. We’re dealing with the Titans. And the Moirai haven’t come in centuries. It’s doubtful that they’d choose now to come, and even if they did, well…Zeus can handle them.”

She looked at him, and suddenly she was smirking. 

Holy shit.

If she kept looking at him like that, he was going to faint.

“Did Hades, the God of the Underworld, notorious for hating his family and hiding away in his own little pocket of the universe to avoid seeing them, just say Zeus can handle them? Damn, Hades. Have I really had that much of an impact of your life already?”

And she winked. She fucking _winked_. That little minx. He was having a lot of thoughts, and not even one of them was innocent.

“You have no idea,” he said, and his voice was a lot lower than he intended it to be.

She smiled. Slowly, she turned her hand around, linking her fingers through his. It was a simple touch, but it was making his heart race. 

“Hecate called me the High Priestess,” she said. “What do you think that means for me? Why do you think she’d say that to someone like me?”

“Someone like you?” he repeated. “What do you think?”

She shrugged, and suddenly, her smile looked slightly sad. He had a sudden urge to wrap his arms around her. “I think I’m not supposed to be anything much,” she answered, her voice quiet. “I’m a minor god. I’m supposed to just grow up and get married and have children and do normal things. Like a mortal. But…I don’t know. I’ve found out a lot of things recently. It’s making me…making me resent that that’s my fate. I’m failing college. I’ve stopped going to the lectures. I haven’t had a full conversation with my mother for months—not one that hasn’t ended in arguments, anyway. And my best friend is moving away and I feel trapped at home and Di is always busy and I just…” She looked away, closing her eyes for a moment. “I feel like…like finding all of this stuff out is some kind of cosmic joke. Everyone else has so much, and I have nothing. I mean, look at me. I’m the goddess of flowers. Flowers and lambs. And then, to have Hecate turn around and call me that, as if I’m part of some grand master plan—it makes me so mad. I’m not a toy. I wish people would let me do what I want to do.”

Hades watched her carefully. She clearly hadn’t meant to start ranting, but he supposed it was a long time coming. In the Underworld, she was away from listening ears. She was away from college and away from work and away from her mother. She was with someone she shouldn’t be, sitting on a bed she shouldn’t be, and telling him things she shouldn’t be. If she didn’t say something now, she would forever hold her silence.

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

“What do you want to do?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed open again, and she met his eyes. “What?” she said.

“What do you want?” he said. It was a simple question.

She swallowed. “Well,” she began, “I want to make my own decisions. I want to breathe without my mother judging my every move. I want to walk into a room without everyone looking at me like I’m some virginal, innocent maiden who can’t make her own mind up about what she wants. I want to get away from my mother without hurting her. I want her to understand that I’m my own person. I want to be an individual without everyone telling me what I can and can’t be.” She paused, leaning forwards slightly. “I want to have friends. I want to date. I want to experience life. I want to help mortals. I want to mean something, be something other than Demeter’s daughter. I want to be treated like a person.”

Her words pulled at Hades’ heartstrings. All his life, he had been told what to do, where to go, and how to behave. He’d been controlled by his little brothers, mocked and belittled by them. He didn’t have friends, he didn’t fit in, he was always seen as some kind of animal, a creature, rather than a person.

And maybe it was because he was so in love it hurt, but he understood her, and felt thrilled that she understood him, even if she didn’t know it.

He wanted to tell her that. He wanted to tell her how he understood, how he knew, how he could relate. He wanted to tell her that she was so young, that she had time to become the woman she wanted to be. He wanted to tell her that it was okay to feel angry at Demeter, that it was natural to want to get away when she was so smothering.

But those weren’t the words that came out of his mouth.

Instead, the words he actually said were, “You’re perfect.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You,” he said without pausing. “You are absolutely magnificent. You’re beautiful. You’re intelligent. You’re kind. You know when to fight and when to back down. You are perfect through and through, and…” He took a breath. And I love you. “I admire you.”

He had been leaning forwards without realising it, and though there was still a distance between them, it was considerably smaller now.

Persephone looked slightly embarrassed, her smile uncertain.

“Ha,” she breathed. “Um. Thank you. You know, um, for someone who’s been so awkward whenever we’ve met…you sure can speak well.”

He could practically see her mentally kicking herself for that. _You can speak well._

He couldn’t resist a smirk. “I sure can,” he agreed. Something about her nervousness was making him confident. He shuffled closer on the bed, and it would be awkward, if she wasn’t too busy staring at his face to notice. With another surge of bravery, he reached towards her with his free hand, ever so gently tucking a loose strand of frizzy hair behind her ear. 

She didn’t move.

“I think you should know,” Hades said quietly, “that I have only ever seen you as a person. And I wouldn’t care if you were a minor god or a mortal: you’re still one of the most honest, soulful people I have ever met. I think…I think it’s important to be aware of yourself.”

She only stared at him, still as a statue.

What was he doing? She wasn’t interested. Her mother was probably on her way. He’d promised to take Persephone home when the routes changed.

But he wanted her to stay so desperately. Even if she despised him, even if she sat a hundred paces from him at any given moment, he wanted her here. 

It was not his choice to make. He let his hand drop, lowering his eyes. 

“That’s all,” he said, still so quiet. Then he made to get up off the bed. He would go and get his jacket and they’d go. Then he’d get back to his passive love. He adored her, but he was not Zeus; he could restrain himself. He wanted her like he’d wanted nothing in his life, but he would not harm her, would not make her feel uncomfortable. She was so young and so innocent and from her perspective, they’d only had three awkward encounters. It was no time to grow to like someone, let alone love them. It was only because of Aphrodite that he was like this. One day, he’d try to explain it to her. At least if she fled, he could try and forget her.

“I’ll take you home,” Hades said, clearing his throat. “You can, um. Borrow a jacket. If you want one. If not, that’s fine, too. I’ll just take you home and—and if Demeter’s angry, I’ll deal with it, and it’ll be all right. Everything will be okay.”

He wasn’t looking at her, so he didn’t see her rolling her eyes and smiling.

“Hades,” she sighed. “You’re really fucking stupid, you know that?”

He blinked. Stopped. Stared at her. “Um…what? Why?”

But she didn’t answer. She grabbed him by his collar, dragging him towards her. Her eyes were closed. She was leaning in. 

_Oh fuck she’s going to kiss me. She’s going to actually kiss me. Oh gods. Oh fuck. Fucking hell. What do I do? Do I let her? Do I run? Should I run? I should definitely run._

There was no time to run. She was tilting her head, moving even closer towards him.

_Oh fuck this is actually happening, calm down now Hades, this is just a kiss, calm down, we’re not going to make this awkward by getting all hot and bothered because of a kiss—_

Her lips grazed his.

Then the door burst open. 

They separated as fast as teenagers, staring at the person in the doorway with wide eyes.

Hades’ first thought was: _My first kiss with Persephone was just interrupted, and whoever is in that doorway is going to die the most painful death in all of history._

His second thought was: _If that’s Demeter, I’m going to die the most painful death in all of history._

But it wasn’t Demeter. It was Hermes. And he was too busy looking terrified to look awkward or disgusted.

Even so, Hades couldn’t stop himself from snapping, “I’m revoking your access to the Underworld! If you don’t fuck off within two seconds I’m going to throw you into Tartarus!”

But Hermes just stared, wide-eyed.

“It’s happening,” he gasped, staring at Hades as though searching for some kind of reassurance. If he was looking for reassurance from Hades, something was very wrong indeed. 

“What’s happening?” Persephone demanded, suddenly urgent and worried. She was standing up—when had she moved?—staring at Hermes as though she already knew exactly what he was going to say. And she did.

“The Moiroi are coming,” he said. “And they’ve got plans.”

Hades stood up, all awkwardness, all frustration, all feeling forgotten.

“Summit,” he growled at Hermes. “Now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hades is basically that scene in Inside Out when the teenage boy sees Riley and all his emotions scream whilst an alarm says, "GIRL! GIRL! GIRL!"
> 
> Sorry again for a late update! I've been so snowed under with work recently, it's crazy. This chapter was a little rushed and it's kinda slow, but I hope it's okay nonetheless.  
> Thanks for reading!


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zeus might be the king of the gods, but he's also the king of being secretive, annoying, and ruining drama.

The major gods, as well as a fair few minor gods, were all gathered at the summit. Persephone had never seen so many people in the same place. They crowded outside the gates, all muttering and shouting at each other in panic. It was chaos.  


Hades gripped her wrist, pulling her along whenever she got distracted by the masses. She wasn’t afraid, but she felt her heart racing, and the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Persephone was young, and she’d never seen the Moirai before. She’d never heard of them. Nobody spoke of them if they could help it. Now, seeing all these people panicking like mortals before a storm, she couldn’t help but wonder. Who were the Moirai, really? What did they do? Who controlled them? And why was their appearance so frightening?  


Hades’ lips were suddenly at her ear, and he was murmuring, “Go to your mother. She'll be here somewhere.”  


She blinked, turning her head so that they were mere inches apart. Her eyes examined his face. He didn’t look afraid, either. Just tired. “You’re letting me stay?”  


“You have as much of a right to stay as I do,” he answered, leaning in even further so that she could hear him. He wasn’t looking at her eyes—they were too close. “Here.”  


To her surprise, he gripped her hand, pressing something into her palm. It felt like parchment, which was bizarre. Was it a secret note? A letter explaining? A drawing?  


“Be safe, Persephone,” he said.  


And then, before she could even blink, he was gone, running through the crowd in a haste to reach his brothers and help them calm the crowd. Persephone unfolded the paper in her hand, examining it.  


It was a phone number, written in Hades’ elegant script.  


_In case you need to vent – H._  


She couldn’t resist the smile that came to her face. The Moirai were coming, the world was going to shit, and the God of the Underworld had just given her his phone number. There was something unnecessarily sweet about it. In case you need to vent. He hadn’t mocked her for her childish rant, hadn’t lectured her on her ungratefulness and selfishness. He understood. Somehow, the weird man she’d bashed into on the street, the one who’d awkwardly bought flowers for his sister-in-law, understood her. She didn’t care if it was naïve. She appreciated him for that.  


She put the paper in her back pocket, still muddy after her trek into Tartarus, and walked through the crowd, searching for her mother’s face.  


It took her a few moments of wrestling and jostling through various other gods and even satyrs and nymphs before Persephone reached her mother. Demeter was standing with Hestia, a short, wrinkled old woman with kind eyes. Hestia had her arms around Demeter, who was crying on her shoulder, her body shaking violently. Persephone didn’t need to hear what Demeter was sobbing out to know what had upset her. She moved faster towards them. The gods were already panicked enough without one of the Big Twelve freaking out over her missing daughter.  


“Mom!” Persephone called out.  


Immediately, Demeter raised her head from Hestia’s chest, wide-eyed when she saw her daughter running towards her. As soon as she was close enough, Demeter grabbed her daughter, pulling Persephone in for a bone-breaking hug.  


“Oh, my beautiful girl, oh my angel, thank goodness you’re safe, are you hurt?”  


Why was everyone assuming Hades had surgically removed all her organs? The more time she spent with him, the more it became apparent that nobody actually knew him. They saw his title, and they saw his attitude, and the assumed he was something he wasn’t. Her Hades was not what they thought he was. One of these days, she was going to prove it.  


Persephone didn’t say this. She said, “I’m fine, Mom. Really, I am.” And that was that. She said she was fine, her mother was aware, and now Persephone was going to be ranted at for the rest of her existence.  


But before Demeter could start what was undoubtedly the first of many lectures, a sudden hush came over the crowd, and all eyes turned to the newcomers.  


Persephone half-expected the Moirai. Instead, she was greeted to the sight of Zeus and Poseidon. She had seen them before, from afar, but she was still always so taken aback by them, by their mere presence alone. They could look at someone and silence them for eternity. The pure power they owned poured off them in waves. Persephone felt an urge to kneel, or look away, or run away and hide. She didn’t. She didn’t know them. And yes, she served them, but she was a god, too, even if they didn’t think she was very important.  


It was difficult to see a family resemblance. Zeus was of medium-height, stocky and bearded, with eyes that electrocuted anyone who dared meet them. He had scars all over his face, but they were not the intimidating kind; he just looked like he’d experienced a million lives over and over again.  


Poseidon was short, with kind eyes which wrinkled at the corners. He looked like a man who smiled often, and if the sandy, messy hair and scruffy jeans were anything to go by, he clearly didn’t take himself or his job very seriously.  


Persephone searched for Hades in them, and if she looked very, very hard, she could just about see him. He had the same jawline as Zeus, the same cheekbones as Poseidon. He walked like both of them, a mixture between arrogant and uncertain. And he, too, oozed power, demanding the attention of every person in the room.  


Almost subconsciously, she found her eyes wandering, looking for Hades in the crowd. She found him almost immediately—those eyes were hard to miss—standing at the front of the gathered masses with the most exhausted expression she had ever seen on his face. He glanced away from his brothers, meeting her eyes, and she could have sworn she saw the corners of his mouth lift ever so slightly.

“Hades!” Zeus called, striding towards him with an arrogant swagger. Gods of all kinds moved out of the way as he walked through them, not waiting for them. If they didn’t move in time, they would be pushed out of the way. Zeus clearly didn’t care. “Is Cerberus home?”

If he’d been smiling before, Hades definitely wasn’t now. “Where else would he be?”

“Good. I need Hecate and Thanatos up here.”

Hades stared at him. His expression was mostly unreadable, but Persephone could detect slight concern in his stormy eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

Zeus had reached him now, and stood beside him, close enough for them to whisper to each other. He motioned for Hades to lean down, and the gods all watched as he hissed something into his ear. Hades’ expression remained neutral, but again, Persephone could almost feel the anxiety rolling off him. Something was wrong.

Zeus moved away, watching Hades’ face carefully. Hades frowned, looking at the gathered gods. Then he nodded, turned, and walked through the gates without a backwards glance. In his absence, Zeus addressed the crowd.

“The Moirai plan to…visit,” he said, his voice booming. “This is no cause for panic. We will receive them gracefully. They have not graced us with a time, so we don’t know when they’ll arrive. But when they do, we’ll be ready. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

It was a ridiculous explanation, one that demanded elaboration. Zeus didn’t give it. Instead, as soon as anyone looked like they were going to ask, he simply shook his head.

“There will be an emergency summit meeting in…” He looked down at his wristwatch. “Five minutes,” he said, looking up. “Major gods, join Hades in the conference room. Minor gods, get back to your stations. We will keep you updated on the situation as we see fit.”

And just like that, he turned and followed Hades through the gates. He didn’t turn either, and if he heard the shocked silence that came afterwards, he obviously didn’t care.

Persephone bristled. The major gods were awful leaders. People were worried. People were confused. People were wondering what the hell to do, how the hell to react, and who the hell to go to if they needed help. And Zeus had brushed off every concern, called a summit meeting and excluded the minor gods yet again. They could help. If these Moirai were really so dangerous, and if they really had so much control, the major gods were going to need all the help they could get. And that meant sucking up their pride and letting minor gods put their own power to use. 

As though sensing her daughter’s frustration, Demeter gently squeezed her upper arm, her expression surprisingly comforting for someone who was still furious and upset.

“It’ll be okay,” she promised. “If Zeus isn’t making a big deal out of it, it’s probably because he knows what he’s doing. He’s dealt with the Moirai before; we all have.”

Persephone fought the urge to roll her eyes and shake her off. Her mother was already unimpressed with her; to piss her off further was suicide. “You’d better get to your meeting,” she said, trying her best not to sound grumpy. “I’m gonna go and do…something.”

“Kore,” Demeter said.

That name sounded weird now. Persephone had only been gone a day, and yet it sounded so strange to be called ‘Kore’.

“It’s fine, Mom. You need to go and sort this,” Persephone answered.

Demeter gave her a final, worried look, and then kissed her cheek, hugged her, and ran off to join Zeus before he could walk all the way to the conference room without her. 

 

~

 

“I think I might faint,” were the first words the professor said as Persephone entered the lecture theatre. Wanting to avoid work and unable to call Dionysus, she had found herself bored enough to actually attend her lecture. She was late, in typical Persephone fashion, and when she entered, every pair of eyes in the room turned to stare at her. “Kore. You’ve actually chosen to grace us with your presence today. Would you like a reintroduction?”

“Don’t sass me, thanks,” said Persephone, sitting down in one of the chairs at the back next to one of her only college friends, Melinoe, a quiet girl who was really far too clever.

Professor Aphaea gave her a serious look. “Perhaps you should see me after class.”

Perhaps she should. The thing was, Persephone did care about her studies. She wanted to succeed, and despite her anger at having to attend university when she was an actual goddess, she did like her course, and did want to pursue botany if she had to pursue any mortal career. But a lot had been going on recently. After missing the exam last week, Persephone had just lost interest for a while.

Now, the fact that the Moirai were coming, and considering all that Hecate had told her, Persephone was finding it difficult to be interested again.

The professor carried on with the lecture, and Persephone tried her best to pay attention. She had her notes out and everything. By the time it had ended, the only things Persephone had written were: “ _Jankaea, Mt Olympus. Protected._ ”

She dutifully stayed behind whilst the others left (“I’ll wait for you outside,” Melinoe promised), standing awkwardly in front of the Aphaea’s desk. Aphaea was a nice professor, if a little sharp and dry. She was a middle-aged woman, a minor god like Persephone, and she knew Demeter very well. She just wanted the best for her students. When it came to Persephone, the best she could do was turn up.

“You haven’t been in for a week,” said Aphaea.

“Sorry,” said Persephone.

“Demeter says you went missing yesterday?”

Persephone shrugged. “I was staying with a friend.”

“A friend, huh? Hades is a friend now?”

Persephone looked up, meeting her eyes. Aphaea had a challenge on her face. She knew Persephone hadn’t expected it. But of course she knew. The whole of Mount Olympus probably knew, and everyone now probably thought she and Hades were sleeping together. Persephone half felt like screaming. She wasn’t allowed to have friends, apparently. She wasn’t allowed to flirt and date and screw. Everyone wanted her to be like a mortal, and yet when she acted like one, everyone started crying about her maidenhood and innocence, as if she’d never done anything like this before, as if she didn’t have every right to.

“I’m starting to get worried about you, Kore,” said Aphaea. “You seem to be throwing your life away for a man again. Remember what happened with Adonis? This happened then, too. Everything went wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake!” Persephone cried out. “I miss one week of lectures and I’m throwing my life away? I was late for my exam because I overslept, not because of a fucking man. I haven’t been attending lectures because I failed an exam, I’m going to have to pick up another module, my best friend’s moving, I’ve lost my job and my mom’s always angry and paranoid. Yeah, okay, I’ve recently made a new friend, fine, whatever. And yeah, sure, I spent last night in the Underworld without telling anyone. But that’s hardly throwing my life away. This isn’t high school; I’m not sobbing and screaming over some teenage boy.”

“If you want us to treat you like an adult, you have to start acting like an adult,” Aphaea reasoned, undisturbed by Persephone’s rant. All she seemed to be doing lately was ranting.

“I am!” Persephone snapped. 

“Okay, look,” said Aphaea, standing up. She stared right at Persephone, searching for something in her face. “I’ll make you a deal. Okay?”

Persephone stared at her suspiciously. Slowly, she nodded.

“I’ll let you retake the exam,” said Aphaea. “I’ll give you a second chance. Extenuating circumstances with the Moirai on their way. Will that make you want to start turning up? To start putting in a bit more effort?”

Persephone bit her lip. She had been upset about the exam. Dionysus had had to calm her down. She’d locked herself in her room and refused to speak to her mom. But it wasn’t just about the exam—it was about everything.

Then again…if she passed…if she got through this year…maybe people would get off her case for a bit. Maybe they’d go easier on her, believe her more. Maybe it would be better.

She wouldn’t get this chance again. And she would really rather end this conversation.

“Okay,” she said finally.

Aphaea replaced her glasses, smiling gently. “Okay. I’ll sort it out and send you an email later. Don’t get your hopes up, but…I’ll see what I can do. Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Right. Have a good afternoon, Kore.”

Persephone shrugged and left the lecture theatre. 

Melinoe was waiting for her outside, raising an eyebrow in question. Persephone explained it away with a, “I’ll talk about it later” and whipped out her phone and the piece of paper Hades had given her, typing the number into her contacts. She saved his number under “Loser” and typed out a quick message, too curious and too frustrated to even care that Melinoe was watching her the whole time.

 

**To: Loser [13:09]:** hey it’s Kore. Meeting over? x

 

To her surprise (and slight amusement), he replied before she even had a chance to put her phone away. _Someone’s eager_ , she thought.

 

**Loser [13:09]:** Yes. 

**Loser [13:09]:** You’re going to ask me to tell you what happened, aren’t you?

 

There was a pause. Then:

 

**Loser [13:10]:** X

 

Persephone grinned despite everything. Even through text, he made things awkward. She found herself wishing Hermes had walked in a minute later that morning.

 

**To: Loser [13:11]:** hell yeah I am. And you’re gonna tell me x

**To: Loser [13:11]:** where shall I meet you? x

 

There was another pause before he answered.

 

**Loser [13:12]:** Demeter has already threatened to kill me twice and slapped me once today, and Zeus has given me a whole list of instructions. I can’t meet today. I’m sorry x

**Loser [13:12]:** Are you working tomorrow? x

 

She was trying to avoid work. After what Daphne had told her, she didn’t particularly want to face her so soon. But she really, really wanted to know about the meeting. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with seeing him again.

 

**To: Loser [13:14]:** I’ll let you know x

 

He responded immediately.

And it was a risky response.

 

**Loser [13:14]:** Don’t keep me waiting too long, sweetheart. x

 

Oh, damn. She was pretty sure her heart had just stopped.

Melione raised an eyebrow at her. “Why are you staring at your phone like that?” she asked. “Kore? What’s happened?”

She tried to have a look at Persephone’s cracked screen, but Persephone immediately withdrew her hand, turning it off before Melione had a chance.

Melione frowned. “Who’s ‘Loser’? That’s not Adonis, is it? Is it?”

“Hell no,” said Persephone. She fought the urge to grin like a schoolgirl, texting someone else and ignoring all of Melione’s attempts to find out what the hell she was smiling at.

 

**To: Daphne [13:16]:** hey, sorry abt last week. Got any shifts for tomorrow?

 

Text sent, Persephone said goodbye to a disgruntled Melione and left the university, walking across campus to get home. She felt giddy, for some reason, which was a bit stupid. _It’s a word, Kore. Chill out. Loads of people say ‘sweetheart’. Actually, it’s pretty condescending._

She wondered what he’d sound like when he said it. Soft, loud, low? Sarcastically, worshipfully, sensually? What other endearments suited him? _Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart. Sweetheart, honey, baby._

It was when she was unlocking the front door that her phone buzzed with the answer.

 

**Daphne [13:38]:** 1-6? 

**To: Daphne [13:40]:** I’ll take it.

 

She walked into her bedroom, taking a deep breath.

 

**To: Loser [13:43]:** I work 1-6 tomorrow x

 

It took him a few moments to respond. In that time, she hung up her coat, shoved her bag onto the floor, and lay on her bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling and thinking through everything that had happened lately. The trip to the Underworld. Hades’ reaction. Demeter’s overreaction. Aphaea’s concerns. More had happened to Persephone over the past week than ever before in her life. She wasn’t sure if it was sad or thrilling.

When her phone buzzed, she found herself leaning towards thrilling.

 

**Loser [13:54]:** Excellent. I’ll be coming in to buy something.

**Loser [13:54]:** What’s your favourite flower? X

 

She rolled her eyes, texting back as fast as she could.

 

**To: Loser [13:55]:** Fuck off.

 

Before she could change her mind, she texted:

 

**To: Loser [13:56]:** Narcissus.x

 

Then she lay back in her bed and tried to stop smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was a bit cheesy.  
> I didn't intend for this chapter to turn into a flirt fest, but, um...it happened. I myself am pretty bad at flirting, so hopefully I didn't screw it up for Hades and Persephone, too :D
> 
> Next chapter: More Moirai, more flirting, and more Underworld.


	10. Chapter Ten

Hades woke up to find Hecate staring at him.

He gave a loud shriek, almost falling out of his chair in shock. He managed to catch himself just in time, grabbing onto the desk. In doing so, he accidentally pushed several papers down onto the floor, his small pot of ink spilling all over the carpet. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he cried out, standing up to tower over Hecate. “What have I told you about just storming into my bedroom?”

Hecate eyed him. “This isn’t your bedroom,” she said, smiling softly. She was completely unaffected by how intimidating he was trying to make himself look. Anyone else would cower under his glare. Hecate had seen him trying to climb on top of Cerberus whilst drunkenly shouting, ‘I’m Britney, bitch!’ and singing ‘Baby One More Time’ obnoxiously loud. She had also seen him crying into a tub of ice cream because his brothers were assholes and he wanted to punch them both in the face. You couldn’t really be intimidated by someone after seeing them like that.

“What do you mean, it’s not my—oh.” He looked around. She was right. They were in his study; he must have fallen asleep here. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“When was the last time you slept properly?” asked Hecate, watching him closely.

He ran a hand over his face, trying to remember how to breathe correctly after the scare she’d given him. “I don’t remember.”

“Hades,” sighed Hecate.

“What? I’ve been busy.”

“All the more reason to get a normal amount of sleep,” she said seriously. “How are you going to balance everything if you’re constantly tired? Even gods need to rest. You can’t just keep going until you collapse.”

He glanced at his chair. There was no way he could have fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable chair. Not unless he had actually collapsed.

“Been there done that,” he said, shrugging. “Is Thanatos back yet?”

“Yes,” nodded Hecate. “He arrived a few moments ago. That’s why I came to get you. He brings news from Atlas.”

Hades set his jaw. Fucking hell, things were shit at the moment. He had Zeus demanding he deal with the Titans on one side, and Poseidon and Rhea demanding he deal with the Moirai on the other. It was no wonder he was exhausted. He barely had time to eat these days, let alone fix Olympus’s problems.

He couldn’t help feeling slightly bitter. His brothers only wanted him around to exploit him. One of these days, he really was going to punch Zeus in the face. 

“Ask him to come up,” said Hades, raking a hand through his hair. It was getting a bit too long. He liked to keep it short—long enough to cover the tips of his ears but short enough to be manageable. He needed to have it cut. He ran his hand over his chin. He needed to shave, too. And he should probably eat something. And he’d told Persephone he’d tell her everything that was happening. Not for the first time, he cursed Aphrodite. He did not have the time to be getting all gooey-eyed over some girl. 

Before he had a chance to cover up his bad mood with fake smiles and determination, Hecate reappeared, and this time, she was accompanied by Thanatos.

Thanatos was ridiculously tall, even taller than Hades, with a body so large, he was actually frightening. Like Hecate, Thanatos’s skin was a dull grey colour, with strange purple splotches all over. Unlike Hecate, Thanatos did not have eyes. Instead, he had gaping eye sockets, black and intimidating, though one should never look too hard; Thanatos had been known to trap mortals with his sightless stare. Over one shoulder, chains were draped. Hades knew from unfortunate experience that they felt like fire—touching them burned.

Despite his frightening appearance, Hades liked Thanatos. All things considered, they got on pretty well. Thanatos could be amusing sometimes, and he was just the right level of seriousness to match Hades. Hades was probably the only person in all of existence who would go out for drinks with the God of Death.

“Hades!” Thanatos smiled when he arrived. “How are you doing, old man?”

Hades wished people would stop calling him old. He wasn’t that old. A couple thousand years. Maybe a few million. He was a god, okay? At least his hair wasn’t grey. Yet.

“Fine,” said Hades.

Thanatos snorted. “Yeah, okay. You’re never fine. But I hear some things are looking better for you, huh? A little birdie tells me you’ve got someone special in your life.”

“I do,” Hades nodded. “I have someone _very_ special in my life.”

“Spill the beans, then. What’s her name?”

“His name is Cerberus,” Hades said. “And he’s a very good dog.”

Thanatos chuckled. Hecate rolled her eyes. Hades simply watched them all, completely straight-faced. He was not discussing this. Not when Thanatos had just gotten back from seeing one of the most dangerous Titans in existence. 

“Let’s get to business,” Hades said abruptly, leaning against his desk with his arms over his chest. Thanatos was no longer smiling. “Atlas. Is he calmer?”

Thanatos sighed. Without asking, he sank into the chair at Hades’ desk, which was far too small for his giant frame, and shook his head. “He’s going mad, Hades. He thinks the Titans will rise, and he’ll be freed from his burden. But you know what that means.”

Hades tried not to think about what it meant.

“We need to talk to Zeus about this,” Hecate put in. Both men glanced at her. “Or someone else. We just need more gods. There are only three of us, and Zeus wants us to deal with the Moirai, too.”

“When do they come?” Hades asked, watching her closely.

Hecate sighed. “Apollo’s prophecies are failing. He is barred from seeing them. I think it would suit us well if we sent someone to see the Oracle. She’s not so closely intertwined with Apollo anymore. It might give us a chance.”

“You aren’t barred from seeing anything,” Thanatos said quietly, watching her. “What do you see, Hecate?”

Hecate looked slightly embarrassed. She looked down at the floor, taking a few deep breaths as though she was trying to brace herself. 

“I cannot see, either,” she admitted. “I just know that the Moirai are on their way, the Titans are waking, and…” She glanced at Hades, moved her eyes back to the floor again. “And the Underworld is going to collapse. We need more stabilisation, but we have none.”

“More Underworld gods?” Thanatos suggested.

“You can’t just make them,” Hades protested. “This isn’t Earth. We’re not talking about police numbers here. We’re talking about the Land of the Dead. The problem isn’t the Underworld, anyway; it’s the Titans. I can’t control when they sleep and when they wake.”

Hecate was watching him very closely. It was almost as though she knew something, something he had been hiding. And honestly, Hades had been hiding something. His mother, Rhea, was awake in the pit. And she wasn’t the only Titan who was awake. Hades was in touch with her—she was his mother, for goodness’ sake—but even she was beginning to get restless. They didn’t want to be trapped under the Earth forever. They wanted to be free. They wanted to rule. And they wanted revenge.

“We need an oracle,” sighed Hecate. “Someone who can see all without being blocked.”

The men knew exactly who she was referring to.

“Absolutely not,” said Hades.

“You must be mad,” Thanatos said.

Hecate shook her head. “Mortals have taken her burden before.”

“And died,” said Hades.

“It would upset the balance of life and death,” Thanatos nodded, giving Hades an appreciative glance. They were the only gods who really understood what death meant. Hecate was a goddess of magic, prophecy and the occult. She was not a goddess of death; she didn’t understand it like they did, and never would.

“And it would require opening the pit,” Hades said seriously. “If we open it, even just a tiny bit, the other Titans will escape. I won’t inflict another war on the people.”

“Too much death,” Thanatos agreed.

“We don’t have to actually release her,” Hecate continued. “We could just go to Trophonios and try and contact her. If we took Apollo, or Cassandra, or…or even me, we could try and emulate her prophecies. Then we would know what the Moirai want, when they’re coming, and how to prepare for them.”

Hades thought about it. Hecate was asking whether they could try and contact a Titaness. Mnemosyne was not just any Titan. She was the mother of the Muses. She was a prophetess with more power than every oracle-god put together. She could put Apollo to shame with her foresight. She had created the River Lethe, removing all memories of mortals before their descent. She was kind and good and innocent.

But she was a Titan. She could destroy everything. By allowing her to come to Olympus, even if it was through another, they would leave Tartarus vulnerable. And if they did that, the Titans would be strong enough to free themselves. With the Moirai on their way, they could do without another Titan War.

“No,” he decided. “I won’t risk it. My job is to protect the Underworld. That means keeping the Titans locked up. I won’t be the cause of another disaster.”

“Hades,” Hecate appealed, “you heard what Zeus said in the summit meeting. He will not change anything. And you know why the Moirai would want to come here. If they come and realise the minor gods are being treated like mortals…”

“Fill me in here,” Thanatos interrupted. “The minor gods?”

Both Hades and Hecate looked away, avoiding his face. Neither of them wanted to tell him. He was safe. The world would always need some kind of death, just as it would always need a place for the dead. Regardless of what the Moirai thought, they would not kill him.

“What happened?” Thanatos said again.

“The Moirai will be sitting in judgement,” Hades said finally. “Here. In the Underworld.”

“Judgement of what?” demanded Thanatos.

“The gods,” Hades sighed. “They’re judging the gods. They haven’t said what that means. They haven’t said how they’ll do it. But…Zeus suspects it has something to do with Olympus. Everyone and their mother counts as a god now. We don’t need it, need them.”

Thanatos stared at him. His mouth hung open in shock. The last time the Fates had had such a huge clear-out had been…well, they hadn’t. And now they were coming to judge the gods, and the gods had no idea when they were coming. They had no time to prepare. They didn’t know how to prepare. It was just going to happen.

“If it’s that serious,” Thanatos said finally, “then I agree with Hecate. We have to risk it. We have to try and find help.”

“If we go to Trophonios, we risk waking the Titans,” Hades argued. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is simple,” Hecate cut in. “If we contact Mnemosyne, we have a chance.”

“Mnemosyne was against us in the Titanomachy. She would not help.”

“She wasn’t. She never picked a side.”

“She fought for Cronus.”

“You’re remembering it wrong!”

“I’m never wrong!”

“Don’t lie to yourself!”

“Both of you be quiet,” interrupted Thanatos. “You’re bickering like a pair of children. Calm down and let me think.”

Hades almost hissed at him but restrained himself. Thanatos meant nothing by it. He never did. But Hades was over-tired, stressed out, and emotionally drained. He wasn’t in the mood for people telling him to be quiet.

Finally, Thanatos said, “I think we should discuss this with the other gods. Zeus knows Mnemosyne better than any of us. He fathered all her children.”

“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if he fathered my children,” Hades huffed. 

“Are we all agreed? We take this to the summit?” Thanatos said, ignoring him.

Hades rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to work. Zeus won’t—”

“Just go to the summit and tell Zeus,” Hecate interrupted. 

Thanatos nodded at her. And just like that, he was gone, leaving Hades scowling at Hecate. He knew something needed to be done, but they were speaking like they were going mad. Contacting a Titan in any way was restricted. Sure, he’d been doing it, but he hadn’t been asking for Rhea’s help. It would automatically make him vulnerable; he knew that.

Hecate and Thanatos didn’t.

“Hades,” Hecate said gently. “This might be a good thing.”

“And it might kill us all,” he answered. “The future is a possibility. If we speak in maybes and might bes, we will lose logic.”

Hecate just looked at him and shook her head. She was about to say something when his phone starting ringing from where he’d left it on the desk.

She raised an eyebrow. He tried very hard not to notice.

He picked up the phone, taking a deep breath. 

“Persephone.”

“Is this where you tell me you don’t actually want to tell me anything because it would get you into trouble because I don’t actually matter?” asked Persephone. She didn’t sound very pleased. Hades glanced at the clock on the wall and winced when he saw the time. It was sometime after eight. _Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit. You idiot, you fucking idiot, you were supposed to see her, you were supposed to talk to her. This could have been the start of something. You fucked up. You fucked up big time._

“I’m sorry, something came up,” he told her. Technically, he was telling the truth. He’d been working. Then he’d fallen asleep. And then Thanatos had come back telling him how Atlas was beginning to go mad. And then Hecate had asked him to contact a Titan. He was a busy man these days.

Still. The disappointment in her voice made him want to smash his head against a wall. He didn’t want to hurt her in any way, and yet he had. His heart was scorching his insides.

“I can still meet you,” he said. “Or I could tell you on the phone.”

She paused, and for a long, dreadful moment, he was certain he’d upset her too much. That she’d hang up on him and never speak to him again, and his heart would beat for no one.

Then she said, “I’ll just come to you.”

He blinked rapidly. “Persephone, the last time that happened—”

“Hermes is escorting me. I’ve blackmailed him. Ten minutes.”

Then she had hung up the phone, and he was left staring at it like it was some sort of creature preparing to eat him.

If he wasn’t so stressed, he would have smiled. But he was stressed. And now, he was starting to wonder whether it would be so bad to open the cell in Tartarus and let the Titans wreak havoc as they so pleased. 

“You have terrible timing,” Hecate told him. 

He blinked. He hadn’t even realised she was still in the room with him.

“Beg pardon?”

“The world is ending, and you’re inviting your partner over?”

He felt his cheeks burning. Damn it. He was the God of the Underworld and he did not blush, damn it. “First of all, the world isn’t ending. Don’t be dramatic. Second of all, she invited herself. Third of all, she’s not my partner.”

“You’re right,” said Hecate, crossing her arms. “I saw her in the future. She will be a lot more than that, in time.”

He rolled his eyes. She could pull the ‘vacant oracle’ trick on anyone. Persephone, Zeus, Demeter. Even he had once fallen for it. But he knew her too well now and would not fall for her ridiculousness.

“Let me know when Thanatos returns,” he said. Then he strode out of the room without a backwards glance.

 

~

 

Hermes looked extremely grumpy, and that was coming from Hades, the king of scowls and sulking. The messenger god was standing as far away from Persephone as he could, looking pointedly down at the floor. Hades had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the sight of him. For someone who was supposed to be a people-person, Hermes really wasn’t.

Persephone didn’t look much happier. She stood with her arms crossed, eyebrows raised, scowl in place. She was already glaring at Hades before he even had a chance to say hello, or ask how her day was, or inquire as to what Demeter was going to say when she found out. He didn’t know how to tell her that every time she scowled at him, he just wanted to sigh and say ‘awww’. She would likely not be amused.

“Well?” said Persephone. “I’m tired of being kept in the dark. Explain.”

“I will,” he answered. He was having a hard time taking his eyes off hers. _Fuck you, Aphrodite. Just fuck you._ “Hermes, piss off.”

“You’d better be nice to me,” scowled Hermes, “because I covered for you. I told Demeter she,” he nodded towards Persephone, “was visiting me. I’ll be collecting her in two hours. Hurry up. And Hades?”

“What.”

“Don’t give away secrets you don’t own.”

Hades snorted, but said nothing. He didn’t even look at Hermes when he left. 

As soon as he was gone, Persephone uncrossed her arms, smoothed out her face, and actually grinned. “Thank fuck. I thought he’d never leave. Let’s go talk. I brought snacks.”

To his utmost amazement, she held up a plastic bag and opened it up to reveal several packets of biscuits, crisps, and a giant bar of chocolate. Bizarrely, there was also a cactus in there, somehow staying upright despite how much she was jostling the bag. He decided not to ask, and led her to his study. When they got there, thankfully, Hecate was gone.

Her eyes were greedy, taking in every book and every paper. His study was usually meticulously clean, but after falling asleep all over his papers, it was messier than it had ever been. Mentally, he kicked himself. He needed to start cleaning up when she came over.

_When_. He frowned.

_Calm the fuck down. This is the second time she’s been here. Take a breath._

“Sorry about the mess,” he heard himself say. “Have a seat.”

She didn’t have a seat. Instead, she dumped the bag onto his desk and took out the cactus, placing it very carefully on the windowsill. She grabbed the chair and pulled it towards the window, climbing on top of it so that she could reach the window. She opened it, got down, and almost fell into the chair, beaming up at him.

“Um. What?” he said.

“I thought your place could do with a bit of brightening up,” she said, nodding seriously as though agreeing with herself. “So I brought a plant. Help yourself to a biscuit,” she added, seeing his eyes flicker back towards the bag. “They’re mortal things. Something called peanut butter cookies. I’ve never even heard of peanut butter, but it’s really nice. So, the meeting.”

Holy shit, she was hyper today. He found himself wanting to smile, and quickly bit it back. He was about to tell her that the Moirai were coming to judge her, and they had no idea how to prepare for them. Now was not the time to be smiling like an idiot because the love of his life had brought a cactus and a bag of cookies. 

Hades chose not to sit, but leaned against the desk, facing her.

“What do you want to know?”

“Who even are the Moirai?” she asked immediately. She’d clearly been thinking over these questions. “Why are they so scary?”

He wasn’t surprised at her lack of knowledge. She was young, very young for a goddess, with a paranoid mother who was likely to withhold as much information from her as she could. Idly, he wondered whether Demeter had told her daughter about him. About what he’d done. But if Persephone knew, she wouldn’t be here now.

He sighed, trying to will his mind to focus. She was such a distraction. He was lucky she wasn’t a major god, because if she was in the summit meetings, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate at all.

“The Moirai are the Fates,” he started to explain. “The daughters of Zeus and the Titan Themis, one of the only Titans who isn’t locked in Tartarus.”

“If Zeus is their dad,” said Persephone, “can’t he stop them?”

“No,” he said solemnly. “They are beyond even his control. Fate applies to everyone: gods, mortals, Titans, even giants. We all bow to the Fates, and the Fates bow to no one.”

“Right,” she said, nodding as though this made sense. “Okay. And there are three of them, right? They’re a trio.”

“Klotho, Lakhesis and Atropos. Together, they control all of Fate, but separate, they control different parts. Klotho controls the thread of life; whenever anyone is born, she decides how they will live. Lakhesis controls the lifespan; she decides how long they will live. Atropos controls the scissors; she decides when to cut the thread and end their life.”

“So it’s all about life.”

“Life, death, and everything in between. They are gods of order, too, and balance. Because they work closely with death gods, they’ll be coming here, to the Underworld, not to Olympus. That’s why Zeus is working so closely with myself, Hecate and Thanatos.”

Persephone nodded, shoving a handful of candy into her mouth. Hades had to fight another urge to smile. She had that look on her face, the thoughtful one. When her brow creased, and her tongue stuck out just a little bit, and her dimples were as prominent as they were when she smiled. She was clearly lost in thought. He was amazed at how much candy she could even fit in her mouth—it seemed far too small for that.

_Okay, we’re going to cut that thought short right now._

“Okay. Okay, so…they’re coming, and that’d bad? Doesn’t it just mean they’re checking the order of things?” asked Persephone, her eyes back on him. She had been staring into space for the last minute, lost in her own mind. She was a daydreamer, he realised. “Or are they coming for a more specific reason?”

“The Moirai only ever come for specific reasons,” he informed her. “And this time, it’s very specific indeed. They are coming to sit in judgement. And they’re judging the gods.”

His words should have a large effect. Instead, she stared at him blankly, chewing on what looked bizarrely like a mushroom-shaped candy. 

“Which means…?” she prompted.

“Which means they are deciding which gods are important and which are useless.”

“Okay. And that means…?”

“We don’t yet know,” he admitted. “But it sounds to me like they would only ever judge a god’s importance to decide whether they deserve to be gods at all.”

The meaning of the words fell around them like smoke, choking them. Persephone stopped munching on candy, dropping her eyes to the floor. Oh. She clearly understood the insinuation of his words. It was probable that minor gods would be cast out and made to live as mortals. They lived like mortals already, but to be cast out from Olympus meant being cast out forever. And Persephone would lose everything. She would lose her mother, lose her friends.

And he would lose her. Because she was a minor god. A goddess of springtime. Unnecessary. There were other, major gods who also filled that role—gods like Demeter. Persephone was not really needed; not anymore, not when humanity was already beginning to turn away from history. There was no point believing in gods like them anymore. They were the passive gods, the ones who sat and judged. They intervened only to help themselves. Humans meant little to them. Who would want to believe in that as their divine force?

“What is Zeus going to do about it?” Persephone asked finally, and when she looked back up, her eyes were made of beautiful fires, burning deep into him. 

“Nothing,” Hades sighed. “He can’t do anything. We don’t know when the Moirai will arrive, or what they will do. Apollo can’t see them. Even Hecate can’t. Without an oracle, we’re never going to be able to find out what the Moirai want, or how we’re supposed to prove ourselves to them in judgement. There’s not exactly a sheet of criteria for us to follow here.”

“And there’s no way to access an oracle?” Persephone demanded. “None at all?”

His stomach churned. _There is one_ , he thought. _But we can’t do that. We can’t._

“What about Themis?” Persephone surprised him by saying.

He stared at her. Perhaps she wasn’t as ignorant as he thought. “What do you mean?”

“Themis is their mother. And she deals in law, doesn’t she?”

He considered this. “Yes.”

“Then if anyone knows what they’ll do, and how they’ll judge us, it will be her. She’s probably the one who taught them in the first place. And Themis is on our side. She always was, even in the War of the Titans. She wasn’t placed in Tartarus.”

Hades couldn’t help feeling surprised. She had shown no such knowledge before, and yet now she was sitting there giving him what seemed like a fairly magical solution. But how did she even know about Themis? Barely anyone did.

How could he have forgotten her? If they could find her, Themis would be the perfect solution. She could help them figure it all out before the Moirai got here. And they wouldn’t need to go anywhere near the cage in Tartarus.

“How do you know this?” he asked her. Better to ask than to wonder.

“Themis knows my mom,” said Persephone. “And me. Her daughters, the Horai, used to babysit me whenever Demeter was away.”

Hades stared at her in amazement. He hadn’t known that. 

“She would help me,” said Persephone. “And if we can’t find her, the Horai would help me. If Themis also mothered the Moirai, then talking to their sisters would help us.”

_She’s the most intelligent person I’ve ever met. Even without Aphrodite, I think I’d be in love. Why does she have to be the Goddess of Spring? She could do so much better down here at my side. She’s too sly for flowers._

Hades wished he could tell his inner voice to shut the fuck up and let him think about something other than ridiculous fantasies involving Persephone.

“That could work,” he said. “You might be onto something. Persephone, you’re a genius.”

“Yeah, I am,” she said, grinning at him, and he felt his heart fluttering again. “But my genius comes at a price, handsome.”

_Oh my fucking fuck, did she just call me handsome? Is that really what she just said? What the fuck. Handsome. I’m handsome. She thinks I’m handsome._

“A price?” he repeated, swallowing and willing his face to stop burning.

“I’m the one who knows Themis and the Horai,” she said, crossing her arms and smirking. That fucking _smirk_. “So I need to be involved in all of this. So when you go and meet them, I’m coming along.”

Persephone, at his side at all times, trying to help stop the Moirai? Yes please.

“Demeter won’t like it,” he warned her.

“Demeter doesn’t have to know,” she said, shrugging. “I’ll take a lot of extra shifts at work and attend even more lectures than usual.”

He didn’t have a better plan.

“You really want to demand that a Titan helps you?” Hades asked. “She hasn’t been seen for a long time, you know.”

“And yet, she used to frequent Delphi. If Apollo’s prophecies are being blocked, it leaves room for Themis. We go there, we call her, she gives us a prophecy and helps us work out what the Moirai are planning to do and how they’re going to judge us.” Her grin widened even more. Her eyes were alight with mischief. “And I would gladly take on Cronus if it meant people would stop trying to take away my godhood. I’m just as worthy as any of you.”

“We would be going behind Zeus’ back to do this. Demeter’s back.”

“So what? He’s a douchebag and I’ll tell her everything when it’s over.”

He watched her carefully. He wanted her along, but this would be dangerous. And if he continued to get too attached to her, it would be all the harder if the Moirai chose to take her away from him. God of the Underworld or no, he wouldn’t be able to combat them.

And yet…

“Are you sure about this?” he asked her.

“One of my professors told me to act like an adult,” said Persephone, shrugging. “So I’m going to do the major gods’ jobs for them. Can’t get much more adult than that.”

Despite everything, he grinned. Damn it. She was too much. 

“Okay, then, Persephone,” he said, standing up straight. “We’ll give it a try.”

“Awesome,” she said, and she, too, stood up. “By the way,” she added. “You owe me a narcissus.”

He laughed. “If this works, I’ll get you a whole garden.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, this chapter ended up a lot longer than I expected it to be.  
> It also ended up being a lot more plot-heavy than I expected it to be.  
> Basically, assume that everything I write is unexpected. 
> 
> What do you think of this chapter? Let me know!


	11. Chapter Eleven

Delphi was touristy. 

Persephone had only been here once before, when she was very young. Eirene, Persephone’s favourite Horai sister, had taken her here to pay respects to Themis and teach her the meaning of worship. It was before Persephone had been named the Goddess of Spring. Before she was important in any shape or form.

It looked the same as it always had. Beautiful and ancient, so carefully and deliberately placed. The pillars stood proud and tall, and the temple of Apollo, a couple of miles away from them, was as beautiful as ever. This had been a proud temple once, completely intact. People had come to worship here, nervous and afraid. A priestess had stood in wait in the centre of the temple, vacant and emotionless, with no personality to spare. 

Oracles weren’t always oracles by choice. Apollo had taken many a woman to be his priestess, channelling his power through them without permission. Having a god climb inside you and possess you was too much for a mortal; Apollo’s priestesses were always dead, kept alive only by his idle power. It was a frightening place for anyone who believed. It was a frightening place for anyone with the potential for prophecy. 

It had too many people today, and Hades was visibly uncomfortable. He stood still and frozen, his shoulders hunched over, his eyes on the floor. Persephone didn’t blame him. When she’d first come here, she, too, had been shocked and slightly afraid of the many tourists mulling about, paying their respects and taking photos. They could be disrespectful sometimes. Demeter visited Delphi sometimes, and whenever she returned home, she would sneer. People often climbed on the structures there, standing high on the top of the pillars. Sometimes, they spat at the place the spring used to be. Sometimes, they imitated the gods, or joked about being ancient Greeks. Mortals no longer believed in the gods, and so Demeter could hardly show herself in her true colours, but Persephone knew for a fact that several accidents that had taken place here were because of Demeter. Demeter’s wrath was a frightful thing indeed.

“Are you okay?” Persephone asked, gazing up at Hades. It was two days since they’d chosen to come here, and he clearly hadn’t slept since then. There were dark rings under his eyes, and his eyes kept losing focus. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to end up fainting, and Persephone would rather not deal with mortals’ help. 

He nodded, setting his jaw. “It’s just…there are…there are lots of people,” he managed to get out, wincing. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath. “S-stupid, I know. A god being afraid of mortals. Ridiculous. I’m just…I…I prefer dead mortals. That’s all. This is…not my forte. At all.”

Without another thought, Persephone reached out and took his hand, her fingers gentle and reassuring as she squeezed. He opened his eyes, staring down at her. For a moment, that’s all he did; just stare, watching her as though drawing strength from her. Then he squeezed back and almost, almost smiled.

“This is ridiculous,” he said with a shaky, humourless laugh. “It should be me comforting you, not the other way around.”

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because I’m an innocent girl? Do I look like a damsel in distress?” Her tone was light, teasing. 

It made him smile, and damn, he should do it more often. He had a nice smile. His face relaxed, and his eyes grew lighter, and he just looked…younger. So much younger. Young and innocent and free of all his burdens.

“We should probably wait for the tourists to leave,” Persephone said thoughtfully. “If we summon Themis whilst they’re around, they’ll freak out. Or they’ll think it’s a movie. Like _300_ or something.”

“ _300_?” he repeated, frowning.

“Yeah. _Abs: Featuring Homoerotic Tension_. It’s a good movie. Horribly inaccurate, but a bit of fun if you’re bored and drunk.”

He stared at her, shaking his head. “Those are very specific requirements.”

She shrugged, gently bumping his shoulder with her own. Was it her imagination, or did his eyes widen just a fraction? “We should wait.”

“We’ll look a bit odd, standing here just…waiting. These mortals are walking very fast.”

He looked around, frowning. She followed his gaze. The tourists were moving quite fast, all scrambling to get to the temple. She wondered whether it was for any specific reason. She wasn’t exactly an expert on tourists. 

“So we act like tourists,” said Persephone. She grinned. “It can be a game.”

“A game,” he repeated faintly.

“Yeah. Like roleplaying. Not sexual roleplaying, mind.” He coughed. “Just, like. We’re friends on holiday. You’re a rich painter living in the city. I’m a broke college student who’s started hanging out with you in the hopes that you’ll whisk me away and pay for all my student loans so I can finish college and be financially stable.”

He stared at her. Then his smile turned into a grin.

“But I _am_ a rich painter, and you _are_ a broke college student.”

“But we’re also gods,” she pointed out. A tourist passing by gave her a weird look, rolled his eyes, and muttered something about ‘kids these days’ and ‘always smoking the weeds’. Persephone snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to prevent herself from laughing. Mortals were too much. “But not today. Today, we are…” She peered at him, examining his face. What mortal name would suit him? Something beginning with H, definitely; he suited that. She considered him. Then, “Hugo. Hugo and Cora.”

He blinked rapidly. He looked so owlish when he did that. It was really cute. “Hugo and Cora? Those are terrible names.”

“Hey,” she pouted, “Cora is literally one of my names. Don’t be rude.”

“Which is precisely why I call you Persephone,” he said, moving slightly closer and smiling down at her. She half-wanted him to lean down and kiss her, and she half-wanted him to fuck off before mortals saw and started tutting. “It suits you more.”

“Do you even know what it means?” she asked, grinning.

“Of course. It means, ‘bringer of death’.”

“And you think that suits me?”

“It certainly suits you more than ‘maiden'. It makes you sound like a child.”

Oh, damn. Yeah, she was definitely veering more towards wanting him to kiss her.

Before she could try and convince him that kissing her in the middle of Delphi was a good idea, they were interrupted by the sight of even more tourists running past them, all headed towards the temple. One of them was moving so fast, he bashed right into Persephone. She gasped, arms flailing, and was immediately pulled back up by Hades before she fell. He had his hands on her upper arms, fingers digging into her as he pulled her even closer and away from the stampede of mortals.

“I’ve got you,” he told her breathlessly. His eyes weren’t on her, though. They were staring after the tourists. “Something’s going on.”

“Come on,” she said. She gripped his hand and pulled him along, following the tourists as fast as she possibly could without looking like she was running a marathon.

The temple was quite far, but she didn’t care. She continued walking, pulling Hades along like a naughty toddler. He didn’t protest—not even once. She was starting to get the feeling that she could ask him to jump into a volcano and he would.

By the time they got there, they were surrounded by tourists of every race, size and class, all staring down at the same thing. Persephone’s heart was racing painfully in her chest. Something was very, very wrong. It wasn’t as though all these tourists would be sprinting towards some kind of demonstration. Not in the temple. They weren’t allowed to do those sorts of things in the temple—it was still sacred, despite changing views.

Hades took charge, being the bigger of the two. Persephone allowed it. He stepped in front of her, still gripping her hand, and pushed through the crowd. Perhaps it was the power he demanded, even on Earth, but people began to move out of his way, allowing him and Persephone to push through to see what all the fuss was about.

They saw it immediately.

In the centre of the temple, lying curled into a ball underneath the arch, was Apollo. And he was absolutely covered in blood.

Persephone gasped. He was shaking on the floor, his arms clinging to his own waist. His body was shaking so violently, she could see it even from this distance. His eyes were open, wide and staring, but they weren’t his normal golden colour. Instead, they were a complete, milky white, as though he was one of his own priestesses. 

Vaguely, Persephone heard Hades say, “Stay here.” Then he was gone from her side, freeing her hands so that she could bring them to her face, covering her mouth. Her eyes were glued on Apollo.

Gods could not bleed. They could not die. This was all impossible. And yet here was Apollo, lying covered in his own blood, vacant and shaking like he was having a fit. In her line of sight, Hades appeared. She watched his giant frame falling down to his knees, watched his hands reach out for Apollo, never touching but hovering, offering. Apollo didn’t even acknowledge him. He just stayed there, as still as ever. He was saying something. It sounded like he was saying the same thing over and over again.

Hades looked up, and his grey eyes drilled right into Persephone’s soul. He made a beckoning gesture with his hand. _Come here a moment._

Persephone swallowed, trying to break out of her reverie. She went to move forwards, but something stopped her. A man stepped in front of her. He was wearing all blue, a beret and a pair of sunglasses. He had badges all over his vest, and he was holding out a hand in a _Stop_ motion.

“Ma’am, stay where you are, please,” he said.

She blinked. Then she scowled. _Stay where I am? Fuck right off!_

“Get out of my way,” she growled furiously. 

“Ma’am, this area is closed off. Nothing to see here.”

“Get out of my way!” she repeated, a little louder. She could feel power rising in her and had to take a deep breath to try and calm herself down. It wasn’t working. Apollo was over there. He was probably dying. Hades was over there, too. And he needed her.

And this fucking mortal was trying to stop her from going over there, as if those two men were not a part of her very complicated and very strange family. The nerve of him. She wanted to crush him into tiny pieces.

_He’s probably an officer. He’s probably just doing his job._

_Well he’s preventing me from doing my job!_

“Ma’am, I’m going to ask you one more time, and then I’m going to have to take you in,” said the man. “Step away. This is not your concern.”

_Like hell it isn’t!_

“And I’m going to tell you one more time, sir, and then I’m going to have to force you,” she growled in reply. “ _Get out of my way._ ”

He stepped closer towards her, hands reaching for something on his belt. He didn’t have time to grab whatever it was. 

Persephone held up a hand, concentrating on her power as she twisted her fingers. His entire body was abruptly covered in snaking vines, curling around him tightly. He didn’t have time to move a single finger before they were restraining him.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said, ignoring the gasps of the mortals. She would deal with them later. “But mortal interference is not helpful right now.”

He stared at her, wide-eyed and horrified. She ignored him, and ran straight towards the temple, skidding down to her knees beside a watching Hades.

“That was stupid,” he told her. He was breathless, and his face was flushed. 

“That was necessary,” she answered, reaching for Apollo. 

Up close, he looked even worse. He was twitching uncontrollably, his breaths heaving as though he’d swallowed glass. His milky eyes saw nothing, nothing at all; they just gazed into space as he twitched and shook on the floor, holding onto himself as though he was trying to keep his body intact. And he probably was. The blood was coming from all over him. There were strange, horrible little cuts all over his body, and as Persephone watched, more began to appear on his skin as though an invisible assassin was slicing at his flesh.

“What’s wrong with him?” breathed Persephone.

“I don’t know,” Hades admitted. “I’ve seen nothing like it. Not even in Tartarus.”

Apollo continued to jerk on the ground, his body overcome by spasm after spasm. The cuts continued to appear, and new, golden blood began to drip from his skin. 

“We have to stop this,” Persephone gasped. “We have to—”

Suddenly, Apollo gripped her wrist. He pulled, and she was yanked down until she was close enough for him to kiss, to kill. His eyes did not focus on her, and the voice that came from his lips was not his at all. For a start, it was female. And it was dreadfully familiar.

“ _You. I need you_ ,” Apollo, but not Apollo, husked.

“What?” Persephone gasped. Her heart had never raced so fast in her chest.

“ _Kore of Demeter Hagne_ ,” gasped the voice. “ _Submit to me. Submit to me now, and Apollo will be spared._ ”

“Is that a threat? Are you threatening me?” Persephone demanded, hoping she sounded braver than she felt.

“No,” said Hades.

Persephone looked up at him, feeling absolutely terrified. She wanted him to pull her away and cradle her like a baby. She wanted to cry.

“What?” she whispered.

“It’s Themis,” said Hades, wincing. “She can’t possess Apollo; he isn’t strong enough to take her. Not when he’s also a prophet. She needs a temporary vessel. She can’t appear in her full form; not here, not now. She would destroy all of Delphi; she’s enormous.”

“ _Kore of Demeter Hagne_ ,” rasped Themis from Apollo’s mouth. “ _He has moments left to live. Submit yourself to me and hear my prayers._ ”

_This is our only chance_ , Persephone thought. _This is our only chance to hear what she has to say. To get her advice on all of this. I’m the only chance we have._

Apollo was crying, actually _crying_. The tears escaped his eyes, as blank as they were. He was whimpering, too, moaning through all of it. 

Hades reached over and gripped Persephone’s hand, his eyes warmer than usual.

“I’m here,” he told her. “I’m right here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I would take on every Titan, every god, and every mortal before I saw you hurt.”

She stared back at him, confused by his words, too distracted to analyse them. 

“ _Moments, Kore of Demeter Hagne_ ,” Themis cried. “ _He is in anguish. Too much pain. He will implode. Help me._ ”

She wasn’t sure whether those last two words were Themis’s or Apollo’s.

Persephone squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Apollo’s hand with her spare one. “Okay! Okay, I submit! I submit!”

Then she felt every piece of the world drip away as Themis slammed into her.

It was not painful, but it was agony. Every piece of Persephone seemed to explode and scatter, as though she had just been cut up and thrown into space. She lost all sense of being and identity, forgetting her name, forgetting her meaning, forgetting every little thing that made up her soul and body. It was like becoming something else. There was no room for Persephone; she was put away in a box for another day. There was only Themis now.

She looked up, tilting her head. Her eyes had gone blank; she could see nothing at all. She could feel, could sense, but were these her senses, or Themis’s?

She heard herself whimpering, just as Apollo had, and felt the hand atop hers tightening. 

Then she spoke, but not in her voice.

“ _Hades, God of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead, God of Wealth and Necromancy._ ”

It was through Themis’s ears that she heard his answer, “What has happened? why can’t you use another form? Why all the possession?”

She, no, Themis, gave a howl of anguish. “ _I am undoing, Hades, dying a slow, fast death in the depths of the stars. We need power, more power._ ”

“Power from what?” said Hades.

“ _The Titans…oh, save them, Hades…they are our only chance…_ ”  
“What the hell does that mean?”

“ _My daughters sit in judgement…they aim to kill not maim…it’s too late! Too late! There is only one more chance…_ ”

“Themis,” Hades said, voice urgent, “when are they coming? How much time do we have? How do we prepare for them?”

“ _One…two…there are days, there are hours, there are weeks…_ ”

“How many weeks?”

“ _One or two, I cannot be certain…_ ”

“And what do we do? Can we stop them before they get here?”

“ _It is a matter of time…time, Hades, time. You know what you must do. You have one or two weeks. Find the Horai and make a bargain. They will help you with the time. And then you face the true enemy._ ”

“The true enemy?” asked Hades. “What do you mean? Who is the true enemy?”

“ _Hidden, hidden…only…only…only…_ ”

She was slipping; Persephone was remembering her name, starting to come back to herself in tiny, miniscule pieces. 

“What do we do?” Hades gasped. “What do we do, Themis?”

“ _Time! Time and Titans!_ ” she shouted back. “ _Time and Titans, Time and Titans, Time and Titans…_ ”

“Wait, you can’t go yet!” Hades hissed. “You can’t just—”

“ _I cannot hold…I cannot…_ ”

And all at once, she completely vanished.

Persephone opened her eyes as herself.

“Oh, dear,” she heard herself say.

Then she collapsed.

 

~

 

Persephone did not wake slowly. She woke with a start, jerking upright so fast, if she were a mortal, she would have broken her back. Or neck. Or both.

She realised almost immediately that she was in Hades’ bed, in his bedroom, in his home in the Underworld. Her head felt like she had just had a Titan in it. She winced. Themis. Of course. Persephone, a young, minor goddess failing her college degree and not turning up to work, had just let a fucking Titaness possess her. Persephone was not one of Apollo’s vacant priestesses, for fuck’s sake. What had made her think that was a good idea?

“How do you feel?”

She turned, completely unsurprised to see Hades sitting in a chair beside the bed. He had clearly just woken up, because his hair was messier than usual, and his eyes were bloodshot. Unless he was drunk. Or crying. And she doubted it was the latter two.

“Awesome,” said Persephone, gingerly touching her head. “Usually pain just goes away. This is a bit annoying.”

“Mortal pain doesn’t affect you, but this is the pain of a Titan,” he said, shrugging. “You will probably have that headache for a while, I’m afraid.”

Persephone groaned softly. She sat up a little straighter in the bed, squinting at her hands. They were shaking. No matter how hard she tried to stop it, the shakes would not go.

“That, too,” Hades supplied helpfully.

“I’m go glad we did that,” sighed Persephone. She felt completely drained. It didn’t help that this bed was comfortable enough to send her right off to sleep again. She didn’t think Hades would appreciate her trespassing on his bed for too long. “How’s Apollo?”

“Recovering,” said Hades. “He wouldn’t stop crying for Artemis. She heard him from Olympus and came to look after him. He wouldn’t let go of her the whole time.”

“I didn’t think he was the sensitive sort,” said Persephone.

“He’s not. But being possessed by a giant Titan with the power of a universe makes one quite…restless. He was unconscious for most of it. It was in his sleep.”

“Oh.” She found herself frowning, which hurt her head. She promptly stopped. “I didn’t cry and cling to anyone in my sleep, did I?”

He swallowed. “No,” he said. His face was slightly pink, but that was probably because his bedroom was warm. Or was that just her fever? He cleared his throat. “What do you remember? Everything, nothing? Bits and pieces?”

“Everything,” said Persephone. She grinned suddenly. “So much for waiting till the tourists had gone. Themis is still pretty impatient, huh?”

He chuckled lowly. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

“Apparently so. You handled that very well, Persephone.”

She beamed. “Thanks. Um. For this, too.” She gestured vaguely at his bedroom. _Thanks for looking after me_ , was what she wanted to say. But it sounded cheesy. So she kept it to herself and hoped he understood. “Do you have any water?”

“Yeah.”

He stood up, left the room for a moment. When he returned, he had a glass of icy water and a cloth in his hands. He sat on the edge of the bed—had he gone even pinker?—and handed her the water, placing it down onto the bedside table when she had downed it. Then, without even asking whether she wanted him to, he leaned over and gently dabbed at her forehead with the cloth.

“Um, what?” she said.

“You have a bit of blood there,” he explained, flushing. “I didn’t think you’d want to get out of bed, so…”

She placed a hand on his wrist. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t mother me.”

He dropped his hand, but he didn’t move back to his chair. He didn’t seem able to take his eyes off her face.

“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said, clearing his throat again. 

“Me too,” she said. “Thanks for holding my hand through all that.”

He smiled. “Any time.”

She smiled, too. They gazed at each other, their eyes saying the things their lips could not. And for one, blissful moment, she thought everything was going to be okay. They were going to be okay.

Then Hades murmured, “Next time, try not to tie up policemen with vines.”

Persephone’s face cracked into a huge grin. Yeah. That had happened. “Apollo needed help and he was getting in my way. What else was I supposed to do? Listen to him?”

He shook his head, chuckling again. “Maybe. One minute you want to lay low, the next you want to cause a scene in front of a few hundred, maybe thousand, mortals.” At the look on her face, he shook his head again. “Don’t worry. Artemis has sorted all of that out with a little help from Athena. They think it was an advertisement for a new film. Some critics are calling it disrespectful. Others are calling it radical. You’ve caused quite a stir.”

“I’ve always wanted to be a movie star,” she said thoughtfully.

He raised an eyebrow. “You have?”

She snorted. “No, loser.” 

She playfully punched his arm, and to her surprise, he caught her by the wrist. He clasped her one hand in both of his, staring down at them like he was trying to work something out. She stared, too. Then her eyes flickered up to his, only to find him watching her closely.

She lifted her free hand to his face. It was still shaking, but she managed to keep it still against his skin, gently nudging at his hair. It curled at the ends. 

“You need a haircut,” she said.

“Yes,” he answered.

Before they could be interrupted again, Persephone leaned up and pressed her lips to his. It was soft at first, uncertain and hopeful as she coaxed his lips into moving. He responded after a moment of pure shock. Then he was finally kissing her back, releasing her hand to cup her face, leaning in closer. His fingers were gentle in her hair; his lips were insistent on her mouth. He pressed on and she opened her mouth for him, breathing him in like oxygen. The softness vanished. She caught his bottom lip in her teeth, gently biting, and he gasped.

They parted, opened their eyes.

And, oh fuck, his eyes were like fire on her. She felt herself wanting, and quickly forced all thoughts down.

“Persephone,” he breathed.

“Hades,” she answered, teasing.

She went in for another kiss, desperate and hungry and insistent. Her hands were on his shoulders, and she pulled him even closer, almost clutching. He tasted of sweetness, which she did not expect. He was honey and ripened fruits, sugar with a bite. She almost didn’t want to keep her eyes closed; she wanted to see his face, wanted to see him. She wanted all of him, all at once. But she shouldn’t. She couldn’t.

Yes, she could.

Abruptly, she moved away, licking her lips. His eyes flashed open, and he stared at her like she was the moon, dark and magnificent. 

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

She smiled softly, breathless now. “So are you.”

She would probably have gone in for a third kiss if the door hadn’t opened, if Apollo hadn’t limped in. He didn’t seem to notice how flushed they were, and how Hades’ lips were slightly stained with Persephone’s lipstick.

“Hi,” said Apollo. “I’m gonna go tell Zeus about Themis. I think you two should come.”

Persephone wiped her mouth, taking a deep breath. She should compose herself. So should Hades. Wherever Zeus was, Demeter was certain to be.

“Give us a moment,” said Hades, still staring at Persephone.

“Sure,” said Apollo. He shut the door.

Hades sighed. He managed to compose himself fairly quickly, which was somehow not a surprise. A man like him, Persephone decided, probably kissed loads of women. He was the eternal bachelor. Women would probably love him.

“We need to lie about Themis,” Hades said. 

“Yeah, we do.”

“And we need to lie about why we were at Delphi.”

“Yeah.” She looked at him carefully. “Apollo cried for help and we both heard him. It was all a coincidence. Everything.”

“They won’t buy it.”

“They don’t need to,” said Persephone. “We just need more time. Remember?”

“Time,” he nodded. “Time and Titans. Time and Titans. We can do this.”

“Yes, we can,” she agreed, gripping his hands in hers. “We can do this.”

“We can.”

“We can.”

Hades pressed a chaste kiss to her lips. “Don’t leave my side,” he said, almost begged.

She smiled at him, her heart clenching in her chest. “Never,” she promised. 

She meant it. Why did it feel so much like a lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3.30AM. My laptop has crashed constantly throughout the last hour. I have lost this chapter three times. If there are any glaring mistakes, this is probably why...
> 
> Fun bit of trivia: myself and a couple of friends made a drinking game for 300, which was basically "take a shot anytime something is a bit gay". We got very drunk very fast. 
> 
> I was super nervous about this chapter because, y'know, I'm not sure whether everything is going a bit too fast. What do you think? Let me know!


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Persephone is up to something.  
> Hades finds an unexpected ally.

Zeus had four girls draped over him, all giggling like nymphs. One of them was feeding him wine; another was massaging his shoulders. Hades would rather not dwell on what the other two were doing. At least it made him feel less guilty about lying.

They were in Zeus’s personal quarters on the summit. Once upon a time, it had been a throne room. Times had changed, however, and now it was more like a living room than anything, with its expensive marble floors and great pillars. Zeus was sitting on a chaise lounge—how typical—ignoring the furious scowls Hera was sending him from her armchair.

“Ah, Hades! Apollo!” Zeus boomed across the room. “It’s so good to see you. You both look very well indeed!”

_Hahaha, fuck you_ , thought Hades. 

“And Kore, of course,” Zeus said, inclining his head at Persephone. “Your mother speaks often of you. Don’t you, darling?” He glanced at Demeter, who was standing stiffly behind him, exchanging several angry glances with Hera.

“Don’t ‘darling’ me,” Demeter replied.

“I’ll call you what I like,” Zeus answered. 

Hades scowled. He was sick of this, absolutely sick of it. Mount Olympus was in danger. The Moirai were coming. The Titans were waking. And Zeus was lounging around getting massages and wine from his favourite whores. Bastard. 

“What do you want, Zeus? Amazingly, I have an Underworld to run,” said Hades, clenching his fists at his sides. He could really use a smile from Persephone now, but she looked just as angry as he felt. 

“I heard about Delphi,” said Zeus, looking at one of his girls instead of Hades. “You all caused quite the stir, you know. Kore, my little love.” _Call her that again and I will sever your head from your shoulders_ , Hades thought. “Quite the sudden reaction from you. Attacking mortals is never a good thing. That could have caused a lot more problems than you are worth.” _Oh, fuck you, she’s worth a thousand of you._ “You are usually such a calm, good little girl, aren’t you? That’s what Demeter always says. What happened to cause such a reaction?”

Persephone swallowed. Had she ever stood before Zeus like this before, addressed by him directly? Hades had to wonder. Did she even know about her heritage? 

Hades’ eyes flickered towards Demeter, who was staring right at him. She shook her head. _No, she doesn’t know_ , her eyes seemed to say. _She has no idea._

“I…panicked,” Persephone said lamely, keeping her eyes on the floor. “Apollo was in trouble. He was hurt. There was a crowd, there were police—they weren’t letting anyone through. Hades got through, though.” She looked up suddenly, staring at Hades and blinking. Her gaze was heavy on him. “I don’t know how. How did you get through?”

He shrugged, clicked his fingers. On his head, a helmet materialised. Within the same second of its appearance, he completely vanished.

Persephone gasped. 

Demeter rolled her eyes and explained for him. “It’s his Helm of Invisibility, otherwise known as the Helm of Darkness, otherwise known as the party trick of the gods’.”

Hades clicked his fingers again and the helmet disappeared. He reappeared, frowning at Demeter. “It’s not a party trick,” he said, affronted. “Without this, you would all be dead.”

She rolled her eyes again. _Fucking hell, when she does that, she looks like her daughter. No. Persephone looks like her. This makes things awkward._

“I didn’t see you put that on,” Persephone said, eyes twinkling.

“Not seeing is exactly the point,” said Hades.

“But I saw you next to Apollo.”

“Because I allowed you to.” 

“But I didn’t see the Helm of Shadows or whatever it’s called.”

“The Helm of Darkness. And you did see it. It changes perceptions. If you see it, your eyes skim over it as though it isn’t there. It’s a self-defence mechanism aimed to protect me.”

She nodded thoughtfully, suddenly smirking. “That’s one impressive hat.”

“It is not a hat,” he said, wincing, “it’s a helmet.”

“It looks like a hat to me.”

“But it’s not a hat!”

“A helmet is a type of hat. Don’t be pedantic.”

“I am not pedantic!”

“Okay, Hades. If you say so.”

They stared at one another. Then Hades became aware that there were three other gods in the room, all watching them and trying to work out what the hell was going on.  
Demeter had never looked so icy in all the time Hades had known her. And that was a pretty long time, considering the fact that they had all met each other at the same time when being thrown up by a Titan. _Thanks, Dad._

He cleared his throat. “Um, anyway.”

“Anyway, indeed,” said Zeus, grinning at him, eyes flickering between Hades and Persephone. _Oh, fuck. He knows._ “Let’s concentrate, shall we? What was wrong with Apollo at Delphi? Care to speak up, Apollo?”

“Um,” said Apollo. “I—”

“He’s still recovering,” Hades interrupted. “He can’t really articulate things well at the moment. Artemis hasn’t finished fixing him up.” Apollo stared at him, slack-jawed, but he didn’t protest. He was a clever man. He was catching on very quickly. “Apollo was hurt. Too many mortals in the same place, I think, all demanding his attention. I see it all the time in the Underworld; eternal punishments often come from too much attention at once,” continued Hades, the lie slipping smoothly through his lips. “We heard his cries, we went to help him.”

“And you just so happened to be together, did you? You and Kore?” Demeter growled. She was watching Hades like he was waiting for him to make a wrong move, to say the wrong thing. She was probably thinking of how to kill him.

He swallowed. Demeter made him slightly nervous. She was a formidable foe; he’d fought her before, of course, when he’d done…that. He didn’t want to face her again. Out of the corner of his eye, Persephone moved, crossing her arms over her chest and scowling. 

_She’s like a sulking teenager_ , he thought, and immediately cut the thought short. She would hate him if she knew he was thinking that of her. 

When Hades didn’t answer, Persephone did.

“No, Mother,” she said. “We just happened to hear him at the same time. I don’t even know Hades. We met once, two weeks ago. Two weeks isn’t a long enough time to get to know someone, even if you hang out with them all the time.”

_She’s right_. He swallowed again. Guilt coursed through his veins, and he resisted the urge to wipe his mouth. He was in love with her. She barely knew him.

So what was he to her? Was he, the God of the Underworld, her rebellious phase? Her procrastination? Was she using him to escape her mother, to escape college, to escape everything? Demeter had likely warned her against Hades. She had probably told his Persephone all sorts of things. 

To Persephone, Hades was a mysterious and forbidden figure, the man who wanted her, but the man she could not have. The idea of him was romantic. A dark creature lurking in the shadows, a misunderstood monster. Was that how she saw him? Was that why she had kissed him?

“It doesn’t matter,” Zeus announced, standing up and waving the girls off him. Hades turned his attention back to him. “What matters is that you’re lying to me.”

Damn. Zeus was an idiot, but a clever one. He could see through Hades. 

“Both of you.”

And Persephone, as it turned out.

Hades opened his mouth, preparing to spout whatever excuse he could think of off the top of his head, but he didn’t get a chance to say anything. At that moment, Apollo finally decided to speak up, looking at neither Hades or Persephone.

“They’re not lying.”

Everyone in the room stared at him. Hades felt his jaw drop, and quickly closed it again. Best not to look suspicious. But Apollo? Helping him? Why?

“I went to visit Delphi and I was overwhelmed,” Apollo lied. “There were more people than ever before, and…well, my prophecies haven’t been working recently. Bit annoying, but what can you do? I reacted badly to everything because I couldn’t answer anyone.”

Zeus stared at him with narrowed eyes. Hades swallowed, his fingers twitching at his sides. If this ended in a fight, he would fight. He had fought his brothers before; he’d gladly do it again, especially if it was to defend Persephone. 

But it wasn’t going to end up in a fight. Zeus trusted Apollo, and for some reason, Apollo was trusting Hades.

“How was it that they appeared to help you?” Zeus asked, nodding at the other two. 

“Prayer,” said Apollo. “Well, technically. I prayed to Hecate.”

Hades raised an eyebrow.

“And Thanatos.”

So did Persephone.

“And I suppose they were busy, because these two came instead.”

“I could understand Hades,” Zeus said suspiciously, “but Persephone is not a death goddess. She has nothing to do with the Underworld.”

And to Hades’ absolute amazement, Apollo shook his head.

“I respectfully disagree,” he said quietly. “I have foreseen certain things that suggest otherwise.”

Oh, damn. Demeter couldn’t look more furious if she tried. Hades had a horrible flashback to the time when she’d slapped him in the face. He would rather keep his cheeks intact, truth be told. 

Zeus stared at Apollo, and Apollo stared at Zeus.

Then Zeus nodded.

“Kore, Hades. Leave. I want to speak to Apollo.”

Hades knew better than to question him when Zeus was in this state. He was too determined to uncover their lies. It was best that they do as he said and leave. They could go far away, as far as they possibly could, and get everything done.

“Wait, what?” Persephone said, blinking.

Hades grasped her wrist and pulled her away, ignoring how Demeter’s eyes seared into his back. Persephone didn’t protest. She went with him willingly, not quite meeting his eyes.

As soon as they were outside, Persephone shook Hades off her and stared pointedly down at the floor, arms crossed almost defensively over her chest. They were standing in the hallway now, the ceilings tall and the floors made up of mosaics. The whole place was beautiful, Hades supposed. He had never once lived in the palace of the gods, so he didn’t know. It would never be home, even if he was offered a place here. His home was the Underworld. He was too tired to be bitter.

“Are you okay?” Hades asked finally, watching Persephone closely.

She looked even more beautiful than usual today. Or was that just the way the light shone down on her, illuminating every feature of her face and bringing out the darkness of her eyes? Or was it just him?

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Then, as though making a decision, she looked up, meeting her eyes with an unreadable expression on her soft-features face. “Hey, Hades? Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why don’t you have a wife?”

The question took him off guard. He’d been asked it before, of course, by Aphrodite and Eros and Zeus and even, at one point, Athena. He never had an answer. How did he explain? 

_The opportunity never arose._

_I’ve never been interested._

_If I loved someone, why would I subject them to the Underworld? It is my burden and mine alone; I would not share it with someone worthier than I._

But this final excuse was no longer valid. Love made men selfish, and Hades had never felt more selfish in his life. He wanted Persephone in every sense of the word. He wanted her beside him, in a throne of her own. He wanted her as a partner, a fellow ruler, the only person who could calm his simmering rage and make him feel remotely happy. He did not want to subject Persephone to the Underworld, but he was lonely, so horribly lonely, and had been for a very long time. His heart was crumbling in his chest. He was so desperate for companionship, and love brought out that desire with more force than ever before. He wanted someone to share in his burden, for better or for worse, and as selfish as that made him…he didn’t care. Oh, stars, forgive him, but he didn’t care.

_I love you I love you I love you._

“No point,” said Hades, shrugging. “I’m not very…I mean, I’m not…well. You only need look at me to see the reason why. I’ve been told I’m too intense.” Minthe. “Zeus is fun, and Poseidon is kind. I’m…well. I don’t know what I am.”

_I am old, so old, and I have no idea who I am anymore._

Persephone was watching him carefully. She still looked unreadable; he had no idea what she was thinking.

Then, quietly, she said, “I think you’re kinder than Poseidon, and more fun than Zeus. I think you’re complicated. And complex. And I think you’ve spent a long time being bitter.”

He met her eyes steadily, blinking very slowly. It was a good character study. She could read him quite well. And yet, she was so naïve. She didn’t understand the foundations of what made him…well, him. She had no idea.

“You’re wiser than your years,” he told her seriously.

She smiled at that, and as always, it made his heart flutter in his chest. “Ha. Sure. So you don’t have a wife because women don’t like you.”

She was wrong. Women did like him. Sometimes. He was the black sheep. Some people found that attractive.

“Yeah. Basically,” he lied.

_I’m not married because of the guilt._

_I’m not married because of misunderstandings._

_I’m not married because I’m afraid._

“Huh,” said Persephone. She frowned slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. She had gone slightly red, he noticed. “Hey, Hades?”

“Mm?”

She went even redder. “Are we going to talk about what happened? In the Underworld?”

Her, beautiful Persephone, leaning forwards, kissing him.

Twice.

Heaven.

“Do we need to talk about it?” he asked.

She coughed, looking at the floor. “Do you want to?” she said, her voice quieter.

“I don’t think we need to.”

“Okay.” 

She looked so doe-eyed and fragile. He wanted to pick her up and hold her to his chest and tell her it was all going to be okay. Because she wasn’t okay. She was scared. He wasn’t sure what she was scared of yet, but it was definitely something.

Suddenly, she blurted, “I don’t regret it and for what it’s worth, I’m interested.” She met his eyes, glaring at him as though daring him to challenge her. Interested? You have no idea. “If you aren’t, that’s fine. But my mom is wrong about you and you seem like a good man and I want to get to know you better and if you cut me off because of this, I’m going to steal your helmet and throw it into Tartarus. Don’t be a coward.”

He stared at her. _Oh, I love her._

“Persephone,” he started.

“Give me your helmet,” she cut in.

“But I’m not cutting you off.”

“Give it to me anyway.”

He stared at her even harder. What the hell was she even doing? Who was this woman? Why did he love her more than ice cream?

“Why?” he said finally.

“Because I want it.”

“And that’s the only reason I need?”

“It should be.”

She continued to glare at him.

“Persephone,” he stared again.

“Hades,” she answered. 

He didn’t have a chance to say anything before the door opened, and Apollo emerged looking even more agonised than before. He didn’t seem surprised to find the two of them standing there, a bit too close for casual acquaintances. 

“Your mother wants you,” Apollo said to Persephone. He shook his head. “She’s pissed off. Big time.”

Persephone looked like she was bracing herself for something. “Yeah. Okay.” She glanced at Hades, biting her lip. And oh, stars, if she carried on doing that, he was probably going to die where he stood. “Helmet.”

He looked at her, looked at her beautiful eyes and confident expression, and he realised then that she could ask him to remove his head and hand it to her and he would.

He clicked his fingers and it appeared in his hand. Ignoring Apollo’s shocked face, Hades handed it to Persephone, their hands touching as she took it.

“Thank you,” she said. And to his amazement, she half-jumped up and kissed his cheek. “Text me.”

And just like that, she was gone, rushing through the doors to get to her mother.

Apollo stared after her. “Something is wrong with that girl.”

“She’s up to something,” Hades agreed. 

He wondered something then. When Themis had possessed her, when she had taken control of her body, how much of the future had Persephone seen? Had she seen her future? Their future? Why was she suddenly so confident around him?

Apollo cleared his throat. “Anyway. You owe me.”

Hades finally turned his eyes away from the closed door. Apollo was staring at him as though waiting for an explanation.

“Tell me why I just lied for you,” said Apollo. “And tell me what’s going on.”

Yes, of course. The prophecy. The Titans. The Moirai. Actual problems that were threatening everything and everyone.

_Fuck you, Aphrodite._

Hades took a deep breath. “Do you want the short version or the full version?”

“Tell me everything,” said Apollo, crossing his arms.

“You can’t tell anyone else,” Hades warned.

Apollo winked. “I’m good at keeping secrets. Tell me.”

Hades sighed. He didn’t really have any other choice. Apollo had just lied for them, just covered their asses for them. He was owed an explanation.

So Hades explained. He explained everything. And as he did, he had to wonder whether he had just found himself an ally or a mole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is messy, short and rushed. I'm moving out tomorrow, so I've been super busy with that. I hope this is an okay update--let me know if there are any errors!! 
> 
> Next chapter: what is Persephone up to?


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky Seph is sneaky.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Persephone fought the urge to groan, or shout, or scream. Instead, she turned around slowly, feeling like the main character of a stupid mortal sitcom as she faced her mother.

“Are we not done?” she asked coolly.

Demeter scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. She was standing in the kitchen, waiting for her dough to prove so she could bake a loaf of bread. Her eyes were narrowed, watching Persephone as though she knew everything. It had been a few days since Hades, Persephone and Apollo had been summoned to Zeus’s palace. Since then, Persephone had been too busy focusing on her assignments to pay much mind to her mission—not that it mattered. Hades hadn’t contacted her at all since the summit. Not that she cared. 

She was too busy, anyway, and Demeter was watching her too closely. They hadn’t really spoken about everything that happened in the last two and a half weeks—not until this morning. Demeter had been ranting at her for the past hour, shouting about every single problem and worry she had. It was all her, her, her. _I’m busy, I’m stressed, I’m worried._ What about Persephone? She was failing college, she was losing money, and she was currently being blanked by the only person who seemed to pay her the slightest attention. Everything in her life was stressful and busy and worrying. But Demeter never asked, ‘How are you?’ She only ever worried about her in relation to herself.

That wasn’t true. Of course it wasn’t. But Persephone hadn’t slept in nearly four days. She had no time to stabilise her own mental state.

“No, we’re _not_ done,” hissed Demeter.

Persephone was dragged out of her thoughts faster than lightning. She scowled.

“I have nothing more to say to you,” she said.

“Nothing to say? You could start by explaining where the hell you’ve been for the past fortnight!” Demeter snapped. 

Persephone hadn’t said much as her mother had ranted at her. She hadn’t thought up a good excuse yet, and Demeter wasn’t stupid. Everyone was talking about Hades at the moment. More specifically, how, whenever he disappeared to the Underworld, innocent Kore seemed to disappear at the exact same time. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

“Why do you care?” Persephone snapped back. “You’re not my fucking keeper.”

“Stop swearing!” Demeter cried. “I’m your mother! I’m supposed to look after you. I have looked after you for your whole life.”

“That’s a fucking lie! Half of my childhood was spent with people I didn’t even know! I was closer to fucking Themis than I was you, and we aren’t even supposed to talk to Titans! It’s not my fault you were too busy to see me growing up.”

Demeter flinched, and Persephone knew she’d gone too far. She knew her mother felt guilty about how busy she was. It was all understandable; Demeter was a major god and she was as close to Zeus as Hera. Persephone was just shooting arrows she knew would hit.

“I have been busy for a lot of your life, and I know that,” Demeter said quietly. “But I’ve done my best. You know that.”

_Yes, I know that_ , Persephone thought.

“Do I?” Persephone said.

Demeter flinched again. She looked sad, so sad, and Persephone felt regret twisting in her gut. _I’m sorry_ , she wanted to say. _I didn’t mean it, any of it. I love you, Mama._

But she said nothing at all.

Demeter ran a hand over her face. “Kore, listen to me. Olympus is dangerous at the moment. You’re young. You’re naïve. I know you don’t see it that way, but…sweetheart, the world is a dangerous place.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” said Persephone stiffly. “And I’m not. I’m fine. I know what I’m doing, Mom; you have to stop babying me.”

“You don’t,” Demeter persisted. “You have no idea. You don’t understand.”

“I do understand! _You_ don’t!”

“For goodness’ _sake_ , Kore!” Demeter raised herself to her full height. She wasn’t tall, but she was certainly not as tiny as Persephone; she towered above her. “You aren’t listening to me! You don’t even know—”

“I know a lot more than you think! I’m not a little girl incapable of making my own decisions! I’m an adult, I have a brain, I—”

“ _ **Grow up**_!” 

Persephone blinked. 

Demeter had not shouted at her in years. Not like this. And here she was, yelling at the top of her lungs, her eyes flashing with fury.

Her eyes began to sting. Her body shook. She felt dizzy, her head spinning as though she’d just stopped spinning around in circles. Her stomach felt completely empty.

“Kore, wait,” Demeter said, immediately realising her mistake.

Persephone didn’t wait. Her eyes burning and blurred with tears, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the house, slamming the door on the way out.

It wasn’t that Persephone was usually this reactive; she wasn’t. She was usually so much better at controlling herself, at keeping herself calm. She would usually just accept this and move on. But Demeter had never snapped at her like that—not in her adult life. And without anyone to go to, Persephone felt completely and utterly alone.

She found herself walking, as she had walked the first time she’d really, properly spoken to Hades. A part of her hoped she would walk straight into the Underworld again, into the freezing cold and deathly. A part of her hoped he would materialise and immediately know what was wrong. A part of her hoped she could just hide with him in the Underworld, never again listening to her mother’s wrathful advice.

And then another, bigger part of her reminded her that she had an asset on her person, one that she had not yet been brave enough to use.

She stopped in the middle of the street, looking through her bag, and retrieved from it the only thing that made her feel like she genuinely had the power to make a difference. Hades’ helmet. She would have expected it to be too big for her head—it certainly looked like it, and she was a lot smaller than him—but instead, when she put it on, it seemed to shrink. It moulded to the shape of her head, sticking to her like a second skin. Wearing it felt bizarrely right, as though it was always meant to be hers.

She didn’t feel any different when she was wearing it. It made her feel more powerful, but she thought that was more of a mental thing than anything else. Nothing physically changed. When she looked down at herself, her body was still there.

She let out a hiss of frustration. _For fuck’s sake_. Why was it that nothing ever worked for her? She’d had a bad day, she was angry and upset, and for fuck’s sake, why couldn’t she catch even the smallest break? She wanted to hit something.

Then, to make matters even worse, someone bashed into her in the street. Persephone turned, about to either apologise profusely or swear like a sailor. She didn’t do either. The person who’d bashed into her was Apollo. He looked ridiculously shifty, constantly glancing around as though making sure people weren’t looking at him. His smiles at passers-by looked unbelievably fake, and his hands kept clenching into fists at his sides.

And when he bashed into her, he stared confusedly around him, his eyes seeing right through her as though she wasn’t there at all.

It worked. The Helm worked.

And Apollo was up to something.

_Grow up_ , Demeter had said. Well, then, she would. She would do everyone a favour and find out what Apollo was doing. And when she did, she would call up Hades and the two of them would take it to Zeus. Maybe they could even locate Themis or the Horai to back them up. It was a good plan, Persephone decided, and she would follow it through.

When Apollo walked away, she followed.

Wearing the Helm of Invisibility was a lot more fun than Persephone had planned. It was fantastic to walk right past people she knew without them noticing. Even when she accidentally knocked people in her haste to keep up with the fast-walking Apollo, their searching eyes saw no explanation for the physical contact. Persephone almost laughed when she walked straight past Dionysus, a tall, broad, familiar figure with twinkling eyes and an infectious grin. He was standing outside one of the stores, leaning against the glass and chatting away to Daphne of all people. It was one of the only times Persephone had seen Daphne smile in the past few weeks, and the sight made her smile, too. Dionysus had that sort of effect on people. It was why it was always he, and not Demeter, who comforted Persephone whenever she was upset by something. It was nice to cry sometimes, but it was also nice to forget everything and laugh. Dionysus was good at making people forget, even if it was just for a few hours. 

She hadn’t seen him for a long time, and part of her considered removing the Helm to speak to him. But Apollo was moving even faster, and she had a controlled urge to follow, to work it all out, to save the day. Perhaps that was hubris. Perhaps she didn’t care.

She moved past Dionysus, but she made sure to poke him before she did, resisting a chuckle when she saw him look around him wildly. She didn’t stay for the aftermath, rushing after Apollo as fast as she could without knocking everyone over on the way. Whilst it was funny, it was annoying. And whilst it made her smile, it also made her want to stop and apologise and offer a thousand herbal solutions when people fell to the ground.

Apollo was weaving in between different streets, turning around corners so swiftly, Persephone was half-afraid that he could sense her following him. He obviously couldn’t, however, because he suddenly stopped and just stared at a quaint wooden gate.

It led to a country path, which led to what looked, bizarrely, like stables and fields. It was like a whole other world on the other side of the gate. Persephone wondered. Was the mortal world linked so closely to Mount Olympus? Or was that a different part of it? The streets always sloped downwards, giving the impression of walking down the mountain, but these fields and country lanes were straight and even. It didn’t make any sense.

Unless this was all an illusion of the gods. Athena was clever enough for that. But Apollo had no reason to visit Athena, and Persephone found it dubious that Athena would be staying on a muddy track for no reason.

Then Apollo spoke, and everything was explained.

“Come on, dude. I’m your brother. The rules don’t apply to me.”

“The rules will always apply to you, you moron,” a female voice replied. Persephone looked around for its owner but couldn’t find any. The voice was completely disembodied.

“That’s not fair,” Apollo protested, and he actually pouted. Persephone fought the urge to laugh. And people called _her_ a child. 

“It is absolutely fair,” said the voice. "Saying you can control yourself is like saying Zeus can."

“I can _totally_ control myself.”

“Daphne.”

“That was Aphrodite’s fault.”

“Cassandra.”

“Hey, that was not my fault whatsoever. We had a deal, she went back on it.”

“Callisto.”

“Okay, maybe I’ll give you that one, but I’m _nowhere near_ as bad as Zeus, and I did apologise for that. A lot. And it was centuries ago.”

The female voice gave a heavy sigh, and Persephone could imagine the owner rolling her eyes. “I’m not letting you anywhere near my hunters, Apollo. You cannot be trusted.”

“Hey,” Apollo held up his hands in a strange, surrendering gesture. It seemed almost sarcastic, and his grin was not helping that image. “I get it. Off-limits. That’s totally cool. I’m here on business, anyway. And I need to talk to you. Genuinely, I do.”

There was a pause.

Apollo dropped his arms. “I swear I won’t do anything. C’mon, Artemis. If you don’t trust your own brother, what even are you?”

Artemis sighed. “Wise,” she answered.

And just like that, the gate swung open, and Artemis seemed to materialise from nowhere. Clearly, the gate was aimed to hide everything behind it. Persephone had never actually met Artemis before, and it was no wonder; she was almost as illusive as Hades, hiding with her own people. Her chorus. Her hunters.

She was very beautiful, Persephone thought. Tall, with unsmiling, wise eyes and hair as black as night. She did not look like Apollo’s twin. She looked like his opposite. And if her serious, humourless nature was anything to go by, she acted like his opposite, too. Then again, Persephone supposed it made sense. They were like two sides of the same coin.

Apollo stepped forwards through the gate, grinning, and Persephone followed just in time. The gate slammed shut behind her. Damn, she hoped she could open it from the inside. She didn’t want to be trapped here forever.

“Aren’t you going to take me home or something?” said Apollo, raising an eyebrow. “So we can, you know, sit down and talk?”

“You don’t know the meaning of ‘off-limits’, Apollo, and a man in our camp will not settle well with my hunters. We either talk here or not at all.”

He stared at her, looking almost hurt. And at that look on his face, Artemis sighed, reached out, and pulled him into a firm embrace. Her eyes were closed tight, and her fingers were cradling his head. Apollo hugged her back without even pausing, clinging to her like a mother or a lover. The display of affection made Persephone want to turn away. She felt like she was intruding. Did Hades ever have this problem? Did he accidentally intrude on intimate moments, moments he felt guilty for seeing?

“How are you feeling?” Artemis murmured, not releasing Apollo.

“Better,” he answered. “Thanks to you and Aidoneus.”

Who the hell was Aidoneus? Persephone bristled. Hades had helped Apollo. He’d helped both of them. She was starting to understand why he was so fed up of the other gods.

Artemis released him suddenly, pushing him back just far enough so that she could see his face. Her hands were firm on his shoulders; she didn’t seem to want to let go of him. Persephone wondered what that was like. Were all siblings as close as these two?

“What happened?” she asked him. “I heard you covered for him.”

For _who_? Persephone almost cried out in frustration, but she knew they’d hear.

“I think he can help,” Apollo admitted. “And no one would suspect him, would they? No one gives two shits about him.”

“Demeter’s daughter seems to,” Artemis said wryly. 

Persephone blinked. That was her. Wait. Who were they talking about? Who did she supposedly care about?

“She’s a lot stronger than she looks,” said Apollo.

“Yes, I’m aware. She’s quite the spitfire, isn’t she?” To Persephone’s amazement, she actually smiled. “She punched Adonis in the face, you know. What a woman! She’s quite the fighter—she’d make an excellent hunter. A shame about Aidoneus.” She sighed. Then she smiled again. “So, go on. You think he can help.”

Persephone fought to prevent her face from burning. Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt, one of the strongest women in Olympus, thought she was a good fighter, and admired her for her treatment of Adonis. Her heart swelled with pride. Maybe she wasn’t so invisible as she thought. Maybe other people were starting to realise she was growing up. Maybe it was just Demeter being paranoid that held Persephone back from her true potential.

She wanted to give Artemis a giant hug. Or high-five her. Or just offer her a drink. 

“He’s got the power of the Underworld on his side. He’s got the God of fucking Death on his side. And Hecate is awesome. I love Hecate.”

“You’re only saying that because you think she’s, and I quote, ‘hot, in a really weird creepy could-probably-kill-you way’,” said Artemis, releasing his shoulders so that she could cross her arms.

Apollo grinned. “You’re always gonna get hot with a god of the sun,” he said, and winked.

Persephone wasn’t sure whether that was obnoxious or funny.

“If you say anything like that one more time, I’m going to make you leave,” said Artemis, so deadpan that it was clear the threat was real.

“Whatever,” said Apollo, shrugging. “The point is, Aidoneus might be creepy, boring and mostly so emotionless you wanna punch him in the face, but he’s got a lot of power, and he knows way more about all of this shit than he’s letting on. He heard Themis’s prophecy. He’s trying to get in touch with the Horai. And he’s dealt with the Moirai more often than anyone.”

Persephone frowned. Wait. Was Aidoneus another name for Hades? 

She wanted to laugh. Aidoneus. Oh, that was funny. He was definitely not an Aidoneus. The ‘H’ in his name suited him.

And no, she had not thought about this way too much. Shut up.

“And he’s also dealing with the Titans more than any other god,” Artemis said, nodding along with him. “You’re right. He could be quite useful. But the real question is, does he know about Themis?”

Of course he knew about Themis. He was there at Delphi. Hadn’t Apollo just said that?

“No,” sighed Apollo. “He doesn’t. And I can’t exactly tell him, can I? He would drop everything and wouldn’t help us. We need to keep him in the dark.”

Persephone leaned in closer when their voices dropped in volume. What the hell were they talking about? They wanted to keep Hades in the dark? What was it about Themis that he didn’t know? Was it something she knew?

She thought about it. No. He knew everything she knew. She’d told him everything.

Artemis bit her lip, turning away for a moment. “Did she possess Kore?”

Apollo nodded. “Yeah. But she won’t have seen anything. Hades was holding onto Kore the whole time.”

He was? Persephone didn’t even remember that.

“Good,” said Artemis, nodding. “An anchor makes her safe.”

“And ignorance makes _him_ safe,” Apollo agreed.

“There’s only one way forwards now.”

“For us or them?”

“Us, you moron,” said Artemis, rolling her eyes. “We go to Themis.”

They knew where Themis was? Even Demeter had no idea where she was. She had disappeared a long time ago; Delphi was the closest anyone had come to her in centuries. Why were they keeping this information? Obviously Zeus didn’t know, or else Apollo wouldn’t have lied for Hades and Persephone, and he and Artemis wouldn’t be so strangely secretive. 

“Are you sure?” Apollo said doubtfully. “That might be difficult. Especially if it’s just us. Maybe we should tell Aidoneus.”

“No. You know him, Phoebus. If he knew, he would…stars, I don’t even know what he’d do. He’s too unpredictable, too angry, and too bitter. He’s a dangerous man. We need to keep it on the down low.”

What were they doing? What did they know? Why would it make Hades angry?

Persephone’s heart couldn’t race faster if it tried.

“And in the meantime?” asked Apollo, raking a hand stressfully through his hair.

Artemis shook her head. “Keep going with his plan. The Horai can help us, too. They won’t know the truth about Themis.”

“She’s their mother.”

“Yes, and they’re far closer to her than they are to Zeus. You know what will happen.”

Apollo frowned, but he eventually nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “But—”

His words were cut short by the shrill sound of Persephone’s phone ringtone. 

She was wrong. Her heart could race faster. And at that current moment, she felt certain they would both be able to hear that, too. Immediately, the twins reacted. Artemis surged forwards before Persephone had a chance to even think of fleeing, grasping at thin air and successfully snatching up Persephone’s arm. Persephone gave a shriek, struggling in her grasp, but Artemis was a warrior. She held fast, and there was no escape.

“It’s a woman,” Apollo said, surprised. “She sounds like a woman.”

“Thank you for your wonderful observational skills, brother,” Artemis snapped, rolling her eyes. To Persephone, she said, “Stay still if you know what’s good for you.”

Persephone did, but not because Artemis had told her to. Because she could sense eyes on her, and when she looked around, she realised that several women were standing around with arrows trained on her. Gods couldn’t die, but they could feel pain. Persephone would rather not be shot by two dozen women at once.

So she stood, frozen, as her phone continued to ring. Whoever was calling was very eager for her attention. It was probably Demeter.

“I don’t care how, but you’ll show yourself to us,” Artemis ordered, her voice ice cold.

Persephone swallowed. Slowly, she reached up with her free hand and removed the Helm of Invisibility, her hand tight around it. If they stole it, Hades would not be pleased.

Apollo gasped. Artemis just stared.

“It’s Kore!” Apollo cried.

“I can see that,” said Artemis.

“With Hades’ helmet!”

“Yes, I have eyes.”

“Here!”

“Yep.”

The phone continued ringing. After a few moments of just staring at her, trying to work out what the hell she was doing here, Artemis motioned to the phone, raising an eyebrow.

“Give that to me.”

Persephone turned it on. Her heart sped up and dropped when she saw who was calling. It was Hades, of course. And since he wasn’t giving up on getting through to her, something was clearly very wrong indeed.

“I said give it to me,” said Artemis.

“I can’t,” Persephone said. “It’s…I need to take this call.”

Artemis observed her. Persephone wondered whether she was going to shout at her or give the order to her hunters to kill her. Instead, to Persephone’s absolute amazement, she gave her an icy stare and said, “Then take it. Loudspeaker. You can share it with the class.”

'Share it with the class'?. Someone was down with the mortals.

“Okay,” Persephone said meekly. She accepted the call, put it on loudspeaker, and barely had a chance to squeak out a, “Hello?” before Hades was speaking.

“I need you to come to the Underworld immediately,” he said.

This couldn’t be good.

Artemis raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?” Persephone asked. “Can it wait? I have an exam tomorrow; I need to revise.”

It was true. She did. And she had planned on going to the library today to try and study with Melinoe. She hadn’t expected to argue with Demeter, and she hadn’t expected to use the Helm to follow Apollo. She wanted it for another reason. This was all ridiculous.

But something about the urgency in his reply made her blood run cold, and she somehow knew she would miss that exam, and her second chance.  
“It can’t wait,” Hades said. “I need you here _now_.”

“What’s happened?” Persephone asked. “Why do you need me?”

“He probably spilt milk,” offered Apollo, forgetting that Hades could hear him. 

Artemis scowled at him furiously.

“Sorry!” mouthed Apollo, smiling sheepishly. Artemis rolled her eyes.

Hades went quiet for a moment. Then: “Are you with people right now?”

Persephone couldn’t lie to him. She couldn’t lie at all, but especially not to him. “Apollo and Artemis.”

She didn’t tell him about the hunters. It wasn’t a lie, but an omission, and she felt it was a necessary omission. Hades hated too many people—he’d told her that himself. She didn’t want him to suddenly stop talking to her. She needed to know what was wrong.

Hades sighed heavily. To her surprise, he didn’t hang up. Instead, he just said, “Then let it be known to them, too.” He took a deep breath, and Persephone could almost feel him preparing himself. “Themis’s predictions were wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

She had a horrible feeling that she knew exactly what he meant, but she was hoping beyond hope that she was wrong. That he was just going to tell her that there weren’t any issues at all, that everything was fine.

But he said it anyway, and she wondered whether screaming would be an acceptable response.

“Themis got the timings wrong. The Moirai are already here.”

“Oh, fuck,” she said. “Oh, fuck, no.”

“Underworld,” he urged. “Hecate will wait for you outside the florists. Now go!”

She didn’t need telling again. She hung up the phone, staring at the twins with wide eyes. She had still intruded. She had heard things she shouldn’t. Would they let her go?  
Apparently so.

“Go,” Artemis said. “Quickly.”

“We’ll be right behind you,” Apollo added.

Persephone nodded. Without a pause, she shoved the Helm back on—she didn’t want to cause a panic—and sprinted back the way she came. She didn’t breathe the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops, my fingers slipped.  
> It's time to meet the Moirai. Spoiler alert: they're not people you'd invite over for movie nights. No "300" for them.
> 
> Sorry that this chapter is slightly rushed. I've spent literally the entire day unpacking, but I've finally finished my move and all my work, so the next chapters will be a lot more detailed. 
> 
> Next chapter: shit gets real


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Hades was not a weak man.

He had fought in the War of the Titans and allowed his siblings to take most of the credit. He had managed to fight against one of Aphrodite’s arrows, restraining himself to the best of his ability. He controlled the Underworld with a firm and fair hand, treating every shade the same regardless of wealth, status, race or gender. Many people would call him a good leader and a decent enough man, even if he was a little serious and very bitter. He was by no means weak. He was strong and brave and laidback, probably too much so.

His brothers rarely went through a difficult time without contacting him, asking for his help despite their tenuous relationship. Despite everything, he was respected as a capable, reasonable man with enough courage to spread around. He was not Ares and did not have a spirit for war and battles. He was not Artemis and did not have the weakness of attachments to the shades he usually spared for war. He was not Aphrodite and did not have the capacity for love in every situation. But he was a strong man, holding his own throughout the centuries and fighting for himself. He had the power to take down armies and frighten gods. The mortals were afraid to speak his name. No, Hades was not a weak man.

He was not a coward either. He could face the most frightening foes without even flinching, too stubborn to back down out of fear. He faced every terror, every nightmare. His life was a living nightmare, trapped in the darkness of the Underworld with the ungrateful souls of ungrateful mortals. He stood tall through every weakness. He would rather die than allow fear to rule him. He ruled indifferently; he was meant to be feared, not fear. No, Hades was not a coward.

But he was absolutely terrified when the Moirai marched into his home.

He had met them before, of course. When he’d first become the king of the Underworld, they had been there to list his duties and responsibilities, presenting him with a verbal rulebook. He had been in awe of them then. They had always been these powerful, larger-than-life creatures, stealing all the attention in every room they went into. They were terrifying, cruel, and completely indifferent to everything. They were timeless and emotionless. They were above mortality, above immortality, above everything in the known universe and more. Anyone who wasn’t afraid of them was either very stupid or very hubristic, and as a god, Hades was unsure which was worse.

They looked exactly the same as they always had. All identical old crones with empty smiles plastered on the withered faces of the masks they wore. They were terrifying, ancient masks, all with expressions of complete torment painted in white on their faces. It was only after the Titan War that they started to wear them. Hades knew that, simply because he had seen their real faces. They were terrifying without the masks, but something about them, something about the link to theatre and tragedy, was unnerving enough to make anyone shiver.

They were tall, far too tall. Hades was about 6”4’ and they towered over him. It was not just intimidation; it was how they were perceived. Their appearance was based on how people imagined them, which was exactly why they wore the masks—it helped them retain their own identities whilst tearing apart everyone else’s. Well. That was just a theory. Nobody really liked to talk about the Moirai, so most theories were simply accepted. The quicker theory became truth, the quicker the conversation about the Fates would end.

It didn’t help that none of the Moirai had eyes. Or at least, Hades didn’t think they did. It was impossible to stare directly at the Fates. They were like Medusa, in a sense, only instead of turning to stone via direct glances, one would simply be unable to look at them properly no matter how many attempts were made. 

Even now, despite all knowledge of them, Hades tried to look at them. He stood cowering below them, craning his neck to gaze up at them, hoping they weren’t about to blast him into smithereens with a single glance. His eyes didn’t grant him access to their faces; he was left staring at the ceiling, wondering why he suddenly felt so cold, he wondered whether someone had poured a bucket of ice down his back without his noticing.

“Welcome to the Underworld,” he said, because it felt better to say something as corny as that than nothing at all. He made sure to bow as he said it, hoping he would seem respectful and not submissive. He was not submissive. This was his home. He didn’t care who they were; in his mind, they were dangerous intruders who would be dead within seconds if he could actually achieve such a feat. He was very fortunate they weren’t mind-readers. If they were, he would be dead where he stood.

“Your pathetic pet is irritating,” one of them said. She said it simply, as though this was more of a fact than an opinion. “Its existence offends me.”

_Oh, well, I’ll just go and murder my dog, that’s just fine_ , thought Hades.

“My humblest apologies, Atropos.” He didn’t dare raise his head. He thought he would scowl, and that would not be good. “I will tell him to be quiet.”

“It deserves a beating,” said Atropos, still so emotionless. “You cannot train a beast with kindness and treats.” 

_I had no idea the Fates were coming just to insult my fucking dog_ , thought Hades. _They can say whatever they like to me, but Cerberus is a good boy and I would die for him._  
“My even humbler apologies,” he said rather dryly. 

If the Moirai noticed his subtle sass, they did not say anything. In fact, they said very little at all. Instead, they strode forwards as if they owned the place, not asking Hades to move out of the way before they were marching through the space he’d been standing in. As soon as their backs were to him, he scowled. Zeus should have warned him about this. The fact that he hadn’t made Hades want to hit something. How could anyone deal with the Fates without prior warning? He had been in the shower when Hecate appeared in his bathroom, ignoring his shout of, “For fuck’s sake, Hecate, can you please knock, oh my stars” to counter it with one of her own: “Moirai! Here! Now! Go downstairs!” 

His hair was still wet, but at least he’d managed to shove some clothes on before meeting up with them. Hosting for the Fates was bad enough. Hosting for them naked would be plain awkward. 

Resisting the urge to sigh or groan, Hades followed the Moirai as they strode away from him. Where the hell were they going? Why were they here? Why had Themis given an incorrect prediction? Themis was never wrong. She was probably one of the cleverest people Hades knew, and that was without considering her ridiculous amount of power.

Unless someone was working behind the scenes, forcing the prophetic deities to get everything wrong. Apollo hadn’t been able to see anything recently, and neither had Hecate. It would make sense. But who was meddling? How? Why? 

Hades shook himself. There was no point in wondering about this now. He would wait for Persephone to get here—what was taking her so long? He could really use her company right about now—and they could discuss it together. That was how they would get through all of this. They’d work it all out side by side. It didn’t matter that the Moirai were walking around like they owned the place, because if Persephone was here, she would be able to comfort and reassure him. She would probably shout at them to piss off. She was that kind of woman. For someone so tiny, she sure was full of rage.

The Moirai suddenly stopped moving, and the change was so quick, Hades almost bashed into them. He caught himself just in time, his heart desperately trying to escape his chest. Hades was not a weak man, and he was not a coward, but he would be a huge liar if he said these creatures didn’t make him want to turn and run as fast and far as he possibly could.

“You will take us to your throne room,” said one of the Moirai, her voice as impassive as everything else about them.

He gulped. “Of course.”

Damn it, where were the other gods? Where was Thanatos? Hecate? Persephone? He couldn’t deal with these people alone. He was one man against the destiny of every man in the universe. Those odds didn’t sound like they were tilting much in his favour.

Even so, he could not deny the Moirai. Trying not to show how terrified he was, Hades walked down the passageway, the darkness closing around him like he was being smothered. 

The Underworld had a completely confusing layout. The entrance hall led to another hall and a passageway. The passageway led to the River Styx, which in turn led to the throne room where Hades would usually judge the souls. The other hall served as the entrance to Hades’ personal quarters, and as such, it was the nicest place in the Underworld. Cerberus usually guarded the entrance to the entrance hall, but he was completely calm whenever someone like the Moirai, Hermes, Thanatos or Hecate passed through. He knew them, and he would make no noise as they passed. Even so, from here, one could hear his irritatingly loud snores. One of the downsides of a three-headed dog, Hades supposed.

Behind him, the Moirai adjusted their size so that they would fit down the passageway, which grew ever smaller the closer it got to the end. Hades didn’t go through it much. This was where Hermes went, taking souls down to Charon. In fact, the last time Hades had ever come down this passageway was when he had had to fetch Persephone from the entrance to the Underworld. Today, he had had to fetch others, only this time, instead of being besotted and enamoured, he was terrified and annoyed. He wasn’t sure which made him walk faster.

He continued on, trying to ignore the three things behind him. They didn’t say a single thing as they walked. They were ever the silent watchers, eyeing Hades’ every move. Hadn’t Zeus mentioned something about judgement? Perhaps this was a form of judgement? They were checking to see how well he knew his own domain. The answer was quite well, though there were places he avoided. The River Styx, for instance, was just not much fun in general. He was not a soul in need of transportation; he could simply will himself to return home and he would be home, so long as he was in the Underworld at the time. The Styx was for the souls, and for Charon, and for anyone except him. No, thank you.

It was harder to simply will himself to places when he had company, especially when that company was the Moirai. They had met him before, but they would still be judging him. He had to make a good impression if he wanted to get out of this situation alive. And for the first time in centuries, he really did want that.  
So he continued walking, and they continued following. The passageway seemed to grow longer and longer the further they went. If the Moirai were mortals, they would be tutting at this point, complaining about the poor service and the walking. But they were not mortals. They were fate. And they only judged.

Finally, finally, they reached the River Styx. And there was Charon, waiting like the loyal servant he was. Charon reminded Hades of a smaller and happier Thanatos, with the same empty eye sockets and creepy aura. He, however, had a lot more hair—dreads that fell to his waist—and a lot more smiles to pass around. Which was weird for someone whose job was to carry mortals in a boat. Over. And over. Again. It would drive Hades fucking insane. Maybe that was why Charon was so smiley. Maybe he was just mad.

When Hades and the Moirai arrived, Charon was sitting in his ferry, reading what looked very suspiciously like a magazine. Hades was treated to several flashes of bright pink and purple before the magazine disappeared, thrown into the Styx. A few of the souls stopped their endless swim of torment to grab at it like ravenous mermaids, and within seconds, it had been torn apart into ribbons and shreds.

Hades raised an eyebrow, and Charon grinned sheepishly.

“Sir,” he said, bowing his head. “Nice shirt.”

Hades rolled his eyes. Pretty much all of his shirts looked the same, as Charon fully-well knew. “Take us over,” he said. He didn’t have time for jokes or conversation; not when the Moirai were standing so close behind him.

Charon wasted no time. He stood up in the boat, reaching a hand out to help the Moirai in. They stared at his hand as though it was absolutely disgusting and got into the ferry themselves, all gazes directed at Charon.

“Throne room.”

“Yes, miss. And miss. And miss.”

He glanced back at Hades, who was preparing to get on the ferry. But he had no time to do so. One of the Fates snapped her fingers, and the boat began moving completely by itself, too fast for Hades to jump on.

Hades stared after them, wide-eyed, confused, and slightly pissed off. “Um, I didn’t—I’m not—”

Lakhesis (or at least, he thought it was her; it was difficult to say when they were all completely identical to each other) turned to fix him with a dead stare, one that froze him in his tracks. Without even thinking, he bowed his head, relaxing his hands at his sides. 

“Hades,” Lakhesis said. “You are relieved of your duties.”

He stared at her. “What? This is my Underworld.”

The ferry was moving away very fast; their voices were growing further away. 

“You are relieved,” Lakhesis repeated coolly. “Continue,” she said to Charon, as if he had any choice in the matter. “Faster.”

“You can’t do this,” Hades protested. “You’re intruding. You’re taking over. This is all I have. You can’t just turn me away.”

This time, Lakhesis didn’t even dignify his words with a response. She just snapped her fingers again, and the boat started rushing away so fast, Charon didn’t even try rowing. He just stood there, staring back at Hades with wide eyes.

_Do something_ , he mouthed.

But Hades could do nothing. The Moirai were stronger than the gods and Titans combined. Even if Hades tried to prevent this from happening, it would only piss them off. He couldn’t afford to piss them off. Not when everything was already so fragile.

He could only stare, watching the ferry disappear from him in the distance.

“This isn’t fair!” he shouted after them. He didn’t even care if it annoyed them. This was where he worked and lived and slept and ate and breathed. And here were these old crones, stepping in like they owned the place, dethroning him with a snap of their fingers and a boat ride. He wanted to strangle them all. How dare they? How was this their place? This had nothing to do with fucking fate, they should have no control over this. He was a god. Why was it that three old women could control him as easily as he could control a human being? He was not a weak mortal cowering in the shadows. He was a strong deity who would always be needed. As long as there were people, there would be an Underworld. And as long as there was an Underworld, there would be a sucker who ruled it. And seeing as he was the only god stupid and unfortunate enough to have that job, he was pretty damned sure he would be needed for a long time.

The Fates couldn’t do this. That was just a fact. They needed him to prevent chaos in the world, an imbalance too major to ignore. Sure, they could turn him away now, but they would be back. They had to be. Right? _Right_?

“Shit,” he hissed to himself.

He would very much appreciate it if things could go right for once.

 

~

 

By the time he made it back to the entrance hall, Hecate had returned with his beautiful Persephone on her arm. Hades had planned out how this would go. He would tell her everything that had happened and explain that she would need to be respectful and polite when she met the Moirai. They would go to his quarters so that they could talk in private, whilst Hecate kept an eye on everything here. Everything would go very well.

But he hadn’t counted on being dethroned, even if it was just for a day, and so the interaction did not quite go as planned. 

“Where are they?” Persephone asked, sounding breathless. She must have run to the florists to meet Hecate. Her frizzy hair was even messier than usual, despite her attempts to pull it back into a ponytail. She was wearing her usual jeans, with a floral blouse that brought out her eyes. And damn, the sight of her was a welcome change to the drab greys and blacks of the Underworld. Everything was dull and dank and dark. She was light. 

He hadn’t seen her for a few days, and he was starting to understand why Aphrodite’s arrows sent people mad. He felt like he was losing his mind. Just seeing her again, even for a second, made his heart surge, his brain fuzzy as all sense of reason disappeared.

“Hades?” Persephone prompted, and he realised he’d been staring at her.

Hades didn’t say anything. He just walked purposefully towards her, pulling her into a tight, possessive hug, cradling her head against his chest. She seemed too surprised to respond. She just stood there awkwardly, slowly patting his back as though trying to comfort him. _There, there, everything is okay now._ He buried his head in her hair, taking a moment to breathe in the scent of flowers and spring. He wanted to say, _Stay here forever and never, ever leave_. He didn’t. If anything was going to send her running, it was proposing within the first three weeks.

“Hi,” he mumbled.

To his surprise, she snorted with laughter, finally returning the hug with enough vigour to make his heart race. “Yeah, hi, loser.” She released him, and reluctantly, he released her. They stared at each other. Then, Persephone said, “Where are the Moirai, then? What’s going on? You didn’t fake all of this to get me here, did you?”

He shook his head. He would probably have taken her words literally if she didn’t tell him she was kidding, and even then, he had to blink and frown a few times before it dawned on him.

How would he explain this? That they'd all been wrong? That their theories had all been debunked within five minutes? That the Moirai were treating them all like irritating flies rather than people, rather than _gods_? 

He sighed. They could hardly speak about this here, out in the open. Hermes could turn up. The Moirai could come back. Apollo and Artemis could appear; they had definitely heard everything he'd said to Persephone on the phone. Hades motioned to the other hall, and neither of the women questioned him. He led them into his quarters, walking up the same staircase Persephone had run up when she'd first come here, and turned left into his study. He made sure to lock the door behind him.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

He leaned against a bookshelf, glad that the curtains were shut. He didn't want Persephone to see how hard he'd tried to look after the cactus she'd given him. She'd either think it was cute--which it wasn't; he was the God of the Underworld, damn it--or weird--which it was; plants didn't grow down here. 

He was also glad that the room was up to its usual standard. It was almost spotless.

"Okay, spill," said Persephone. "Tell us about the Moirai. Where are they? Did they explain why they're here?"

He sighed, bracing himself.

“They’re here,” he said seriously, his eyes flicking to Hecate for a moment. She’d been awkwardly standing there the whole time, and now met his eyes with a solemn look. “They’re in the throne room. And no, they didn’t explain anything. They complained about my dog, took my throne, and told me I was ‘relieved of my duties’. As if I’m some mortal office worker handing his notice in.” He scowled furiously. “This is ridiculous.”

“But expected,” said Hecate. “If they really are judging the gods, like Zeus suggested, then…well, you’re one of those gods. It’s hardly fair to judge the God of the Underworld in the Underworld. It would give you an unfair advantage. So they’ve taken away your power, just until they’ve finished everything.”

“It would be nice of them to explain what the hell this ‘judgement’ is, and what the fuck they’re planning on doing,” he snapped. He swore a lot more often when he was angry. He didn't mean to; it just happened.

“We can’t know if they don’t tell us," Hecate reasoned.

“Which they won’t.”

“So I assumed.”

“So what the hell do we do?” he asked, raking a hand through his hair. “We can’t just sit around and let us do whatever they want. They’ll wreak havoc.”

Persephone frowned thoughtfully, leaning her weight on one leg. She didn't say anything, just looked between them as though trying to work something out.

“We could just go to Zeus,” suggested Hecate.

“No,” Hades and Persephone spoke in unison. They glanced at each other, smiled, looked back at Hecate.

“No,” Hades repeated. “I don’t want his nose anywhere near my business, thank you.”

Hecate sighed. “Hades, you really ought to fix this with him, you need him—”

“I am more in need of a Trojan fucking horse than I am in need of Zeus,” said Hades, crossing his arms. He caught Persephone smirking out of the corner of his eye, and for a moment seriously considered grabbing her and carrying her off to his room. _Fuck you_ , Aphrodite, he thought for the millionth time. He hoped she heard every single curse. 

“Then we have no options,” said Hecate. “We either take this to Zeus or we just let it happen and see what happens next. We are supposed to trust the Moirai.”

“No thanks,” said Hades. “I would sooner trust a talking lamp.”

Hecate stared at him. Then she said, “I don’t think you understand analogies.”

As Hades and Hecate spiralled into a petty argument about analogies (“Since when were you down with the mortals, anyway?” Hades cried), Persephone continued to stare at nothing, her brow creasing with every thought. Hades wondered whether she was frowning because of him and Hecate—after all, arguing about lamps was not helpful when the Moirai were a couple of miles away from them at that very moment, in his throne room—but she clearly wasn’t. After a few moments, she looked up at them and gave them an inquisitive look.

“Guys,” she said, interrupting their catfight. The two of them turned to her, immediately ceasing their argument. She was sitting on Hades' desk, her legs swinging slowly. Her brandy eyes stared between them, landing finally on Hades’ face. She was smiling, actually smiling, but it wasn’t a cheerful or sarcastic smile. It was sly and knowing, as though she was plotting something. 

“Guys,” she said again. “I have an idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meet Charon. He's the ferryman of the dead. It's not a great job, but he Styx with it ;)  
> (I'm not sorry)
> 
> So, you've met the Moirai now. I had no idea how to portray them so I went for the "icy dismissive 'Hades please stop going on about your dog'" route. What do you think? Like them, hate them, unsure? Let me know all your thoughts!


	15. Chapter Fifteen

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not? It would work.”

“Because that would put you in serious danger.”

“I’m already _in_ serious danger. We all are.”

“They might not fall for it.”

“They might.”

“Why are you so desperate to risk yourself? This isn’t bravery, this is madness.”

Hecate sighed, resting her chin in her hands as she watched the two of them argue. Hades and Persephone had been snapping and snarling at each other for the past half an hour. Persephone was terrifying when she was angry; she looked like she was seconds away from grabbing him and throwing him into the River Styx. Hades just looked frustrated. The more he tried to reason with her, the more Persephone resisted. And Hecate had to admit it: she completely understood. She was a passive woman, someone who just went along in life with a dreamy smile and accepting nod. That wasn’t because she was weak; it was because she didn’t really care about what happened. Life was life, fate was fate. Que sera, sera. 

Persephone, on the other hand, cared a great deal. She was less about sitting back and letting things happen and more about taking action. She was a formidable woman in her own sweet way. Sure, she was nice, and of course, her smile brightened the Underworld quite considerably, but there was always something else simmering under the surface. Everyone assumed Hades was the dark one, the dramatic one, the one everyone should fear and cower from, but Persephone wasn’t really much better. Not really.

Hecate had to smile. She wasn’t sure whether they were perfect together or disastrous. 

“As if there’s a difference,” Persephone was snapping, “between bravery and madness.”

“Of course there’s a fucking difference!” Hades cried in reply. 

“No, there isn’t. You’re just blind.”

“And you’re not?”

“No, I’m not! I know exactly what I’m doing!”

“That’s exactly what I said when I took on the worst responsibility in Olympus!”

“The Underworld isn’t even part of Olympus!”

“ _That’s not the point_!” 

Hecate sighed. Hades was one of her only friends, and she liked Persephone enough to count her as a possible other. She didn’t want to be pissed off at either of them.

But damn. Couldn’t they just agree to disagree? 

Apparently not.

“You really think I’m oblivious to everything, don’t you?” snapped Persephone. When Hecate braved a glance at her, it was to see her standing a few centimetres away from Hades, glaring up at him as though she, a five-foot-tall minor god, was actually going to fight him, a six-foot-four-tall God of Death. “I’m not as oblivious as you. Everyone thinks I’m too trusting but look at _you_! You have far more to lose!”

“I know what I’m doing,” he growled. “I’ve played Zeus like a fiddle for the past millennia. Don’t talk down to me, girl.” 

“Did you just ‘girl’ me? _You_? Oh, fuck right off!”

“This is _my_ home! I’m not going anywhere!”

“What, are you going to just stand there and continue arguing with a _girl_? A stupid, naïve little _girl_? What does that make you, huh?” 

Hecate sighed, massaging her temples. She was putting an end to this, pronto. It was starting to get out of hand, and she was getting a headache. Gods didn’t even get headaches. Sometimes, she felt more like Hades’ mother than his friend.

“Okay, that’s enough,” she said.

They completely ignored her; it was as though she was speaking to the walls. They continued shouting and spitting at each other. A few times, it was obvious Hades was trying to back down, but Persephone riled him right back up again. She wanted a fight; that much was clear. She wanted Hades to be angry. Hecate had no idea why. Persephone seemed so simple, so easy to understand, but there were so may elements to her that Hecate did not understand. She wondered how much of her Hades saw when he looked at her. Was he blinded by his love for her? Or did he, too, understand that Persephone was not who he thought her to be?

“I said that’s enough,” Hecate tried again, sighing so heavily, she felt like she was exhaling her soul. 

They still didn’t hear her. They were even closer than before now, glowering right into each other’s eyes. From this distance, Hecate could only just about see that Hades had gone slightly pink in the cheeks, and Persephone’s eyes kept flicking between his eyes and lips. Their snapping continued, but they were resorting to petty insults now, the sort of things children would shout at each other on a school playground. It was a different argument altogether.

Hecate inwardly groaned. Oh no, no way. This wasn’t going to turn into something inappropriate—not with her in the room, and certainly not when the Moirai were standing in the throne room. Hecate was not a physical person, and she disliked getting involved in arguments. She didn’t see the point in arguing with people when she could reason with them. But when they didn’t listen to reason, what else could she do?

With a sigh of resignation, Hecate moved forwards, grabbed Persephone by the arm, and half-dragged her away from Hades. 

Persephone spun around, her eyes wide and flashing, but she didn’t put up a fight. Thank the stars. Hecate probably wouldn’t last very long against _her_.

“The Moirai are in the throne room,” Hecate reminded them gently. “You’re arguing like an old married couple. We need to discuss this reasonably, like grown adults.”

Hades, to his credit, seemed to calm down at her words. Hecate knew he did, because his shoulders relaxed, he blinked steadily, and his breathing calmed. Hecate had known him for a long time, long enough for her to forget the years. She knew exactly when he was calm, and when he was tense. And it certainly helped that she, as the Goddess of Magic, could easily send off a calming aura to soothe the people around her.

Persephone seemed to calm down, too, her eyes softening and dropping, her breathing regulating. Hecate didn’t know her, but she could sense it all. 

And thank the stars she could. If either of them started arguing again, Hecate would be inclined to slap them both and storm out, and she wasn’t a physical person at all.

“Right,” said Hades, immediately unclenching his fists and taking a deep breath. He kept eyeing Persephone, but he didn’t start on her, and she didn’t even look at him. “Yes, you’re right. Of course. But we need to think of another option. Persephone can’t just march in on them. I have no idea whether the helmet will fool the Moirai. It probably won’t. They’re above all the gods—even Zeus. They would notice in a heartbeat, and when they realise they’re being spied on…well, Persephone won’t be around to comment.”

“Hades, please just listen to me,” Persephone said, so softly that Hecate had to stare at her. Persephone had not been hit by Aphrodite. She had known Hades for three weeks maximum. There was no way she had any feelings for him other than simple, base attraction. But the way she softened her voice, the way she finally turned to look at him, made Hecate frown. “Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re just paranoid. Even Apollo and Artemis were unaware that I was there, until you phoned me.”

“Where _are_ Apollo and Artemis?” asked Hecate. “I would have imagined they would be coming to sort this out, too.”

“They would,” Hades said darkly. “I imagine the Moirai have closed the Underworld off.”

“But we managed to get in just fine.”

“You arrived before they reached the throne room,” Hades reasoned. 

Persephone frowned slightly, idly rubbing at her arm as though she was cold. She looked like she was in deep thought again. It was something Hecate liked about her. She was an angry, rebellious girl born into an angry, rebellious family, and yet there was a quietness to her, a thoughtfulness. It reminded Hecate of Hades. In fact, though the two were different, they shared a lot of these strange similarities. Perhaps it wasn’t so far-fetched to imagine that Persephone might like Hades on an emotional level as well as physical. She had spent so long trapped at home with an overbearing mother. It was probable that her contact with other people had been extraordinarily and unhealthily limited. Now, in contact with Hades, the very same man her mother had probably warned her away from, she was finding that he understood. That he listened. That he shared in her isolation, shared in her loneliness.

No, it wasn’t that far-fetched. Persephone had a lot to learn, but Hecate knew where this was going, and it wasn’t because of any prophecy. It was common sense and intuition.

Ironically, two things Hades currently lacked.

“So, does that mean we’re trapped inside?” Persephone said, and Hecate blinked as she started paying attention again. “Will the Morai even notice if we leave?”

“I doubt they will care,” Hades admitted, shrugging. “If people leave, they cannot come back—not while they’re still here. They’ll just be getting rid of more problems. We’ll have to find a loophole somehow.”

Persephone’s face contorted. She looked conflicted, just for a moment—a mixture of worry and relief. It was an odd combination.

“So…I _can_ go home?” she asked quietly.

Hades nodded. “You can go home.”

She nodded, too. Then she said, “Cool. I’m staying here for a while.”

Hades raised an eyebrow, eyes flickering towards Hecate before returning immediately to his almost-kind-of-not-really-girlfriend. It was rare for anyone to want to come to the Underworld for necessity, let alone for fun. But Persephone was ready, willing and eager to stay in a dank, dark place with a man she’d known for less than a month.

Damn. Her home life must be hard.

“That’s not a problem, right?” said Persephone, eyeing Hades with a challenge on her face.

Hades had already shared his wishes to love Persephone from afar when he and Hecate had a few moments to talk. She knew he wanted to create boundaries, wanted to end whatever this was before it went too far. Hades was already in love, but he was falling deeper and deeper, past any mortal level or even concept. Aphrodite had corrupted him, and it wouldn’t be long before his sense completely disappeared, replaced with a single, base urge to take what he would eventually come to think of as his. It would be better for all involved if Hades avoided her as often as he could. _Passive love_ , he called it. It was a sensible and reasonable idea.

It would be sensible and reasonable to tell Persephone to go home to her mother, to get out of the Underworld to the safety of her home. It would be sensible and reasonable to refuse to allow her to go through with her mad plan. It would be sensible and reasonable to demand that she return his helmet and shut the door on the way out.

Instead, he slowly shook his head.

“It’s not a problem,” he said quietly. “Stay.”

Stay, stay, stay. The word seemed to hang in the air, heavier than any of the insults they’d been snapping at each other mere moments ago.

Hecate swallowed. Damn. If Persephone was going to be staying, Hecate was going to become the eternal third wheel of the Underworld revolution.

Great.

Tired of watching them make fuck-me eyes at each other, Hecate cleared her throat pointedly, raising her voice to announce, “Right! So now that we’ve all calmed down and sorted through our differences, why don’t we get to the elephant in the room?”

Persephone glanced at her, grinning. Hades just stared at Persephone’s face, his eyes burning into her as though he was trying to memorise every one of her freckles to memory.

“The ‘elephant in the room’?” Persephone repeated. “Have I missed something? Have all the gods been going on a road trip to Earth? You’re all coming out with such human idioms.”

“You use them all the time,” pointed out Hecate.

“I was mortal for a long time,” she retorted. “And all my friends are nymphs. They spend their lives on Earth.”

Hecate relented, nodding. “You make an excellent point,” she said.

“Yep,” said Persephone. 

Hades was still staring at her.

Gods. Hecate loved Hades as a brother, but she did _not_ trust him to remain a gentleman with Persephone staying with him.

“I still think you should let me give it a try,” said Persephone. “I can do it, Hades.”

So, they were back on this again. Hecate resisted the urge to groan. She wished they would stop disagreeing. Something had to be done about the Moirai. Persephone's solution was the only one they had so far. Why couldn't they just try it out? She wanted to go into the throne room and spy on the Moirai. If they caught her, what would they do, really? Kill her? Hecate doubted it.

“No,” Hades finally broke the silence, still staring at her when she met his gaze. “If you want to stay here, you’re going to listen to me. And I’m telling you no. This isn’t advisory, this isn’t a vote—this is me telling you no. I respect your boundaries. Respect mine.”

“These aren’t boundaries,” Persephone protested. “We have no idea what the Moirai want. They’re not listening to you. To anyone. No one can get into the Underworld. It’s us three against those three. We need to try _something_.”

“‘Something’ doesn’t mean ‘suicide’,” Hades growled—actually _growled_ —and Persephone just glowered up at him. 

“I’m offering to spy on them. I’m not offering to drown myself,” she said bluntly.

He scowled furiously, spinning to turn his glaring eyes on Hecate. “Tell her!”

But Hecate looked at the floor, shifting nervously where she stood. She felt like a child who’d been caught doing something naughty.

“I agree with her,” she mumbled. 

He stared. Then: “ _What_?” He didn’t roar or shout. His voice was a whisper. An angry, terrifying whisper. Hecate wished she could leave the Underworld and go home to her cats. When Hades was as emotional as he was now, he could be an asshole—an asshole she didn’t want to cross, no matter how unafraid of him she was.

“I said I agree with her,” muttered Hecate. 

“There? See?” Persephone half-cried.

“No, I _don’t_ see!” he snapped back. _Oh, for the love of—please don’t start arguing again._ “We can’t just let her saunter up to the Moirai!”

“Why not? They’re not going to kill her,” retorted Hecate. “She’s a minor god. They won’t be expecting her.”

“They expect _everything_. They’re the _Fates_.”

“Why would they come all the way here just to sit in a throne room and prophesise? It makes no sense,” Persephone argued. Hecate nodded in agreement. “The sooner we try it, the sooner we know what they’re doing. And the sooner we know what they’re doing, the sooner we can think of a way to stop them. And the sooner we find a way to stop them, the sooner you get the Underworld back and everything calms down.” She fluttered her eyelashes, making her eyes as large and beseeching as possible. “Just let me try, Hades.”

He stared down at her, and Hecate could almost hear the cogs in his brain turning. It took him a while to answer her.

He sighed. “Give me tonight to think this through,” he relented, raking a hand through his hair. "The answer, as it stands, is still no. But I think we're all jumping to conclusions very fast considering everything that's happened. We could all use a break. Sleeping on it...well, it might help."

Finally, reason spoke. It was the only sensible thing Hecate had heard him say all evening. Hecate expected Persephone to refuse, to demand that he let her do this tonight, now, as soon as possible. But to her surprise, she nodded.

“Okay,” she said. “One night. We can all sleep and think about it. And tomorrow, we’re going to talk.”

 

~

 

Perhaps Persephone was going mad. It didn’t feel like it. All of this felt so right, it was wrong. She was in the Underworld with Hades, yet again, only this time, no one could come to interrupt them. Nobody could get in. No Demeter, no Hermes; even Apollo and Artemis were locked out of reach of them. Persephone had Hades to herself, and she wasn’t sure whether it thrilled or scared her.

When Hecate made a speedy exit, with no explanation other than, “I want to see if Thanatos is down here” Persephone decided that it was a bit of both. She was thrilled—she felt like electricity was burning through her veins—but she was scared, too. She still didn’t know Hades, and whenever they were alone together, things either got bad or amazing. With the Moirai mere rooms away from them, and Hecate gone, Persephone was beginning to wonder whether this was going to be a case of the two of them making everything worse.

They left the study when Hecate exited. Without even asking each other, without even thinking about it, Hades and Persephone made their way towards his bedroom. It was where they had the most conversations. It was also where they’d kissed twice, not even a week ago. 

"We can talk more, if you like," Hades offered before they went in.

"About the Moirai? No thanks," Persephone said. She wiped at her eyes. She was exhausted. "I'd rather eat glass."

When they entered the room, Hades closed the door behind them. It was such a quiet sound, Persephone felt ridiculous for jumping. It was because of the Moirai, she told herself. Her senses were alight with worry and fear. They were here and no one knew why, or what they were going to do, or whether they even needed to be stopped. The thought of it made Persephone want to crawl home to her mother crying.

But it didn’t, did it? Because it was by choice that Persephone was here, with Hades, instead of at home with Demeter. Was she mad? Perhaps. But she loved it anyway.

In the room, Hades stood awkwardly with his hands in the pockets of his trousers, leaning against the chest of drawers and staring at the floor. It took Persephone a few moments to realise that he was also nervous, unsure of what to expect. She turned, looking around at all the easels again. He’d painted different things now. The one that caught her eye was the painting of a woman, kneeling in a meadow, staring up at black skies. She stared at it for a few moments, taking note of the dark skin and freckles and long, wild hair.

It looked like _her_.

As though he’d just remembered that he’d left that painting out in the open, Hades pushed up from the chest of drawers and practically sprinted to stand at her side.

“That’s, um, experimental,” he said. They were the first words he’d said since Hecate had left to find Thanatos. Persephone detected a double meaning in his words and raised an eyebrow up at him. And gods, she’d forgotten in the short time they’d been apart just how tall he was. She had to crane her neck to look at him. “I’m not sure whether I like it yet.”

Was it creepy or flattering to know the guy who was interested in you liked painting you? Persephone really wasn’t sure. She liked the painting. It was pretty. He had a lot of talent.

But it was also of her, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Not sure about the subject matter or the painting?” she asked, smirking.

Hades flushed. “Painting,” he said quickly. “I’m very sure about you—about her, I mean. Um. Oh, stars. I should have put it away. Sorry. I know this must be awkward.”

She shook her head. “The Moirai are in the other room and you’re nervous that things might be awkward?” What a sweetheart. This man was husband material. “It’s not awkward. Don’t worry. I like the painting.”

And she did, she decided. She liked it. Liked that it was of her. No one usually even knew who she was, and here he was, painting her as though she was his inspiration, his muse. She had never been anyone’s muse or inspiration before. She had never caught anyone’s attention, except for assholes and patronising douches. 

Maybe it was naïve of her, but she wanted his attention, basked in it. It felt less like she was being looked down on and judged for her parenthood and more like someone actually liked her, actually enjoyed her company and appearance.

“You do?” he asked, surprised as he stared down at her. He grinned, and it was crooked and lopsided and just so right. “Damn. I mean, thank you. I’m glad. Really glad.”

“Just don’t paint me all the time, please,” she warned, grinning back at him. “More than ten is a bit creepy.”

“I only paint the same thing twice as practice,” he said seriously. “So I wouldn’t. I mean, you know, if you didn’t want me to. If you did want me to, I would paint you again, because I don’t think I’d ever get bored of it—that isn’t to say I stare at you a lot or anything, that’s creepy, what I mean to say, I mean what I’m trying to put across to you is that—”

“Hades,” interrupted Persephone.

“Um, yes?”

“Stop talking.”

He grinned again. “Okay.”

She gave his arm a comforting pat, and then failed to cover her mouth as she let out a huge yawn. She retrieved her phone from her pocket. It was late, really late, and she’d been sleeping badly for the past couple of days. She could do with sleeping, really.

But where was she supposed to sleep? The only bedroom she’d seen so far was Hades’. Only bedrooms had beds. Which meant that she would probably have to either share a bed with Hades or take a sofa somewhere. The choice, she realised, was completely hers. Hades wasn’t the sort of man who would stop her if she decided on doing something, even if that something was taking over his entire bed without asking. 

Persephone made a decision. She made her way over to the bed, flopping down on it without even asking, kicking her shoes off as she did so. She stretched out, yawning, and surveyed him. He was staring at her with an unreadable expression. His eyes seemed darker than usual. Did it suit him more when his eyes looked lighter or darker? She wasn’t sure.

“I’m gonna sleep here tonight,” she told him. “We can share a bed. Come on.” She motioned for him to join her, and he stared at her even harder, as though the very idea of such a thing was preposterous. She hoped he wasn’t one of those “no sex/bed-sharing/intimacy in any shape or form before marriage” people. She didn’t mind them, but as a girl desperate to rebel against her mother’s idea of what a daughter should be, Persephone was not exactly chaste. It was one of the things Demeter worried about. Especially now that Persephone was spending time with Hades. Demeter probably thought they were sleeping together. Which wasn’t true, of course. At the moment, they were just friends. They’d kissed, yes, but friends kissed all the time. Platonically.

Even she didn't believe herself.

“Are you okay?” she asked when she saw him hesitating. “If it makes you uncomfortable, that’s fine—”

“No,” he said, so fast it was suspicious. “I don’t mind sharing a bed. But, um. Aren’t you uncomfortable? I have a lot of rooms—there are spare bedrooms you can use if the idea makes you uncomfortable, I really won’t be offended. Or of course, I can go into another room if you like. I’m sorry. I don’t usually have guests, I don’t really know how to react.”

She had to smile at him. He was cute when he got flustered like this. “Hades, I don’t mind. Seriously. I’m not suggesting we have a threesome with Hecate,” when she saw his eyes widen, she ignored him, “or get married. It’s bed-sharing. It’s not a big deal. I share beds with my friends all the time—it’s platonic and normal and completely fine.”

Except that it wasn’t, because they were attracted to each other, they’d known each other for less than three weeks, and he was obviously hopelessly in love with her.

But hey. She could behave if he could.

Awkwardly, he kicked his shoes off and swung his legs over onto the bed, sitting up with his legs closed and his hands carefully folded in his lap. He sat like that for ages, as still as a statue, staring right ahead of him. Whilst he stared ahead, Persephone studied him. He was the sort of large man who didn’t like being large. He hunched his shoulders, bent his knees, bowed his head. Anything to make him look shorter, less threatening. Even now, sitting down, he was obviously trying not to seem like too much, as quiet and submissive as a mouse bowing to a lion. It was interesting, Persephone decided, that he didn’t seem to like being in control of anything—anything except his own home and his own self. Everyone else, every _thing_ else, could find its own leader. He liked other people to take the reins.

Or at least, that’s what Persephone saw. She didn’t know whether it was true. But he just seemed so passive, allowing her and Hecate to make decisions. Even if they displeased him, he’d go along with it. She knew that as soon as they spoke tomorrow, he would relent and allow her to go through with her plan, despite his reservations and concerns. It was an interesting quirk for the God of the Underworld. Perhaps he’d been burned before.

“You watch me like a painter,” murmured Hades. He didn’t look at her, but he was smiling ever-so-slightly. 

“Sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. You already know I look at you.” He gestured towards the painting, still not looking at her. “Your mother would not be pleased if she saw you now.”

Persephone raised an eyebrow. She considered sitting up, but she was so comfortable lying like this, staring at him. She didn’t want to move, ever.

“What do you think she’d see?” asked Persephone. She watched him closely, waiting for his answer. He could go many ways. A compliment, a criticism. Flirting, perhaps. He was unpredictable, but predictable, a walking contradiction. Time spent with him was time spent wondering. 

“Definitely not what I see,” was his answer. So he was being coy. Fine.

“Why’s that?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Because it’s not her bed you’re stealing,” he answered.

She grinned. She hadn’t expected that response. There it was again: expectations, undone. She wasn’t sure whether she liked it or not.

Something about this, about everything, was exciting. It felt like a beginning, with so many routes and options, it was almost overwhelming. Persephone was learning a new subject, and the subject was Hades. She could write pages about his appearance, about his gestures, about how he spoke and how he sounded, but she could write far less about him as a person. There was so much left to find out and discover—about him, about them, and about herself. It felt like the start of a journey. And despite her reservations, and despite the fact that the Moirai were here, that was a comforting thought.

“So you like painting,” she said suddenly. “But I’ve also noticed you have a library. And your study has a bookshelf. So do you like reading, too?”

“Well-observed,” he commented, and _still_ his eyes stared ahead. “Yes, I read. When and if I get a chance. Lately, I haven’t had much time.”

“Why not? What do you even do?”

“I control the Underworld, I attend meetings, and recently, I see you.”

It sounded so simple, but so sweet. 

“My spare time used to be dedicated to reading and painting,” he continued softly, “but it is now completely dedicated to you. And no, I’m really not joking.”

“No,” she agreed. “You’re not.”

He sounded so serious, so honest. Times like these, when they spoke in hushed voices and murmured tones, revealing simple things about themselves, were so raw. It was weird. Persephone didn’t know what to think about it, or even if she should be thinking at all. This was how a normal relationship was built, she thought. Not like Adonis, who had managed to get her into bed after a few drinks and inappropriate conversations. She didn’t have experience in this sort of thing. All the men she’d been with had been simple flings. Adonis had been her only real boyfriend—it felt weird thinking that—and that relationship had been almost entirely made up of physicality and broken promises.

She had only ever experienced the physical side of relationships, of love. Whenever she was interested in someone, she had an urge to please them, to show that she could share in sexual intimacy, that she knew about that. This was all different, all new. She was lying in a bed with Hades, not touching, not even thinking about it. Just lying there, talking. Overthinking.

“What sort of books do you read?” she asked, and she realised that she’d moved closer whilst overthinking everything. He was finally looking down at her, eyes gentle and soft. She liked them when they burned, but oh, the softness was so sweet. She wanted him to look at her like that forever.

“Mostly thrillers,” he told her, and was it her imagination, or was his voice getting more and more soothing? “I like psychological horror. Drama is fun too. Anything involving humanity is an interesting read, guaranteed.”

She wanted to nod, but she was finding it hard moving her head. Her body felt so heavy. This bed was too soft.

“Favourite author,” she said.

“Hemingway. But I like Oscar Wilde. And the Brontës are a depressing laugh.”

She giggled softly. “List three things you’re bad at.”

“Do you have a list of questions to ask hidden somewhere?” he asked.

She scoffed. Without even thinking about it, she shuffled closer. He seemed more relaxed now, and he’d gotten closer. Close enough. She moved until her head was in her lap, her eyes fluttering closed. She heard him give a soft inhale of surprise, but he didn’t protest, and he didn’t push her off. It was good enough for her.

_Some_ intimacy was all right, right? She could be physical without it being…that. Right?

“I have a lot of lists,” she mumbled into his thigh.

“I knew it,” he said. Carefully, he began to thread his fingers through her hair, so gently it was like a feather stroking across her scalp. “Well, I’m shit at sports. You can probably guess that. And I can’t write poetry. And I’m not the best at sewing. Tried it once, hated it.”

She smiled. She could imagine it, all of it.

“And what about you, my honey? What are three things _you_ are bad at?”

She was too tired to pay much mind to the pet name. Instead, she just mumbled, “College, being a good daughter, keeping in touch with people.”

His fingers continued to stroke through her hair, gentle but pressing comfortably into her head. “You don’t have to go to college, Persephone. You don’t seem to enjoy it very much. And you’re not a bad daughter. You just have a difficult relationship with your mother. That’s completely normal, especially at your age. You’ll work out your differences and learn to understand each other. And until then, I’m here for you. I’ll always be here. You can rant at me, you can moan at me, you can just talk to me about stupid things like why you dislike the nymph down the road or how you’ve had a bad day. My ears belong to you.”

Her mind was beginning to drift away. She was finding it difficult to follow his words; she could feel a blanket of sleep falling over her.

“ _I_ belong to you,” he continued. “Anything you want. Anything at all.”

She shifted, placing herself face-up in his lap, and let herself go.

“You sound like you’re in love with me,” she mumbled, jokingly.

He didn’t laugh. As she began to fall asleep, she heard him murmur something. She felt his hand on her face, a thumb gently moving over her cheekbone. 

“Maybe,” was what he said.

But she lost the word when she fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Look who's back!  
> I'm so sorry for not uploading for a few days. I've been dealing with a lot of personal problems recently and I couldn't really find the time to write much. This chapter is a bit messy and sort of long, but hopefully it's okay.
> 
> I wanted a sort of comedown chapter, because the last few have been "action galore!" and I wanted H and P to interact a bit more in a romantic sense. The threat of the Moirai is still around, and the issue will be addressed in the next chapter. Persephone also hasn't forgotten what she overheard with the twins. It's all coming. I just wanted to write a fluffyish chapter.
> 
> As always, feel free to let me know what you think. Thank you so, so much for all the support for this little fic! I appreciate every read, every comment, every kudos and every bookmark--it all means the world to me!!


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades is not a coward. He's not.

Hades hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but when he next opened his eyes, the bedroom was dark. He was lying in his bed, on top of the covers. Hot air kept blowing against his neck. Strands of coarse hair tickled at his chin. A strange weight pressed down on him. 

_Shit, what is that?_ Had Cerberus somehow finally managed to fit through the tunnels, forcing his way into Hades’ room? No, that was ridiculous. He was far too large for the room, let alone the bed. Was it Hecate, maybe? She could get very cuddly when she was drunk—perhaps she’d been indulging herself to distract from everything going on. But no. Hecate disliked alcohol. Things weren’t that bad.

The thing on his chest shifted, and he felt fingers digging into his waist. So it was definitely a person. A person, pressed against him, with a very particular form. It was a woman, for sure. Definitely a woman. 

None of it made any sense. Hades always slept alone these days—he didn’t have anyone to sleep with, and he wasn’t the sort of man who hoarded several teddy bears under his bed, seeing as he was an adult and a god and definitely, absolutely above that. The last time he’d had anyone in his bed had been years ago, when he and Minthe had still been “together”. Usually, they would fall asleep tired and sexed out, or they would fall asleep cold and angry at each other. They would never touch—not when they were sleeping. Minthe liked her own space, and Hades would rather eat knives than cuddle. 

And yet, here he was, cuddling some stranger. 

Oh stars. He hadn’t, had he?

“…not for you, not you…” a female voice mumbled.

Hades felt his heart calm down, then race back up again. 

It was Persephone. Persephone was lying in his bed again. This time, they were actually cuddling. And this time, they had fallen asleep tangled together.

He remembered the evening, tried to calm down. Okay, so he was just disorientated. That was the only reason he felt so suddenly awake. He was disorientated and confused and it had nothing to do with the fact that Persephone was here, lying on top of him, mumbling in her sleep.

_Fucking fuck._

Persephone shifted in her sleep, making a soft noise that made Hades either want to jump into the River Styx or wake her up just so he could kiss her. He wasn’t sure which option he preferred. Hades did not like to be embarrassed. He did not like to feel like he had no control over anything. With both situations bombarding him, he felt like he was drowning.

She shifted again, making another, different noise and draping one of her arms across his face. He tilted his head, trying to move out of the way, but her hand followed. Her fingers brushed across his nose, landing on his jaw. Was she still asleep? Did people even do this in their sleep? He stared at her carefully, watching the stillness of her eyelids. Yes, she was still asleep. Either that, or she was brilliant at pretending.

Unable to resist himself, he tilted his face again, this time into her palm. Gently, he kissed her hand. And when he did so, her eyelids fluttered open, and he was suddenly staring at those beautiful dark eyes.

She smiled when she saw him. Actually smiled. Her cheeks dimpled, her eyes relaxing into a soft brightness. “Hi,” she said, and he thought he had died and gone to the Elysian Fields.

“Hi,” he breathed back.

“Sorry for falling asleep on you,” she said. She couldn’t be that sorry, however, because she made no effort to move away.

“It’s okay,” he said.

“Good,” she said.

They stared at each other. Her eyes flicked between his, and he felt rather like he was being scrutinised for a painting, or an interrogation.

Then she sighed, moving again. She rolled off him, but curled up into him, moulding so perfectly to him that he actually wondered whether Aphrodite’s arrow had anything to do with how he felt. Perhaps it was fate. Perhaps that’s why the Moirai had taken over—they were giving him time to bond with his destined beloved.

Perhaps he was beginning to lose it after all.

“I feel like I should be doing more,” said Persephone.

Hades raised an eyebrow, though she, staring at his chest, did not see. They had spoken briefly about this last night—about her reluctance to go to college, about her problems at home and at work. He wasn’t too surprised by the sudden statement.

“You can only ever do what your heart allows you to do,” he said, which he thought sounded very wise and profound and a bit too pretentious for his tastes.

“What?” 

“You don’t have to do any of the things you’re thinking of doing. College can wait. Work can wait. Your mother can wait. Everything can wait. Life is what you make it; if you feel like you can’t do too much right now, that’s okay. We all go through times like that.”

She giggled, and he frowned. There was nothing funny about what he was saying. Perhaps he was articulating it wrong?

“You’re an idiot,” she informed him.

His frown deepened. “Why?” 

But she shook her head, hair catching on the buttons of the shirt he hadn’t bothered removing last night. “Have you given my plan much thought?” she asked, and was it his imagination, or was she changing her voice to sound like him? Was she mocking him? Was it teasing? Why was it so difficult to understand women?

“Yes.”

“And?”

“And I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said, sighing. She sat up, leaning on him and scowling down into his face. “Don’t pull that face. It’s a ridiculous idea. You can’t just go marching into the Moirai’s territory. I think we’ll be much safer waiting for the Horai or the other gods to arrive.”

“Who says the Horai will arrive?” demanded Persephone. “Has anyone even tried contacting them yet?”

“You said you wanted to.”

“I said I wanted to be there. I assumed you would have the common sense to read between the lines and contact them yourself.”

“I thought you were doing it!” he protested.

“For goodness’ sake!” she cried in reply. “Must I do everything?”

He stared at her. As if she did everything. Persephone was a tagalong for this entire ride—she got nothing more than a bit of fun and rebellion out of it. He was in it for the fate of the universe and Mount Olympus; she was in it to get back at her mother whilst flirting with a powerful man. 

Internally, he winced. He knew that wasn’t fair. She was doing her best. But sometimes he forgot how ridiculously naïve and young she was. She was pretending to know everything, but it was all a façade, and despite all his love for her, he was starting to see through it. Perhaps that was a part of his love for her. He saw what others failed to see. She was not a little girl, and she was not an innocent maiden in need of rescuing, but naivety was not the same as blissful ignorance. One could be inexperienced without being stupid. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, sighing. He thought of his fantasies, of how he wanted them to marry each other and live happily ever after and wondered whether this was all just a part of that vision. Being Persephone’s husband would require patience, he suspected, and a hell of a lot of concession. “It’s my fault. But I think we should try contacting them before we go straight into the hornet’s nest with that bloody helmet.”

“This is an immediate problem,” Persephone reasoned, sitting up even further. He immediately missed the warmth of her body against his. He wanted to hold her forever. “We need to act now.”

“I’m not having this argument with you,” he said. “Not again.”

“You can’t just ignore a problem and hope it goes away.”

“I’ve spent my whole life ignoring problems and hoping they go away.”

“And look at you. You’re a sad old man all alone in a dark palace. You don’t even get visitors down here.”

He flinched. Then he scowled. “The next person to call me old is getting a punch in the face, I swear by all the salt in me—”

“There you go again!” Persephone interrupted. She crossed her arms, her eyes burning with a fire that was becoming almost domestically familiar. “Ignoring the fact that I just pointed out an actual flaw! Here’s another flaw for you, Hades. You’re a coward. You run away from every bad thing in the world and hope someone else will deal with it. Now the fight has been brought to you, and even now you’re still running! The Moirai are here. They’re going to hurt us. You already know that. But what have you done about it? You’ve sulked, you’ve cuddled a florist, and you’ve lain in bed thinking about all the things you could do if you weren’t such a passive asshole!”

He sat up now, too. Her words weren’t really hurting him. It was the truth behind them that hurt. Yes, he was passive, and yes, he was a coward, but why should he be anything else? Hades had always, always been second best, third best, hundredth best. It wasn’t a matter of being hated. It had never been like that. Cronus hated Zeus the most; everyone knew that.

It wasn’t that he was hated. It was that he was ignored. Hades despised the fact that locked down here, nobody even acknowledged his existence. He was always the last option, the option no one thought of. He was nothing and no one and he did one of the most important jobs in existence and people still paid him no notice. Persephone was the first person he’d met who really gave him the attention he craved. And now she was pointing it out to him, plain as day.

And he found himself wanting to prove himself.

“Give me my helmet back,” he said suddenly.

Persephone stared at him. Clearly, she hadn’t expected this response, if she’d expected any at all. “No,” she said.

“Give it back,” he said again. “I want to use it.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What for?”

“Underworld things,” he answered. “Give it to me now, please. I’ll give it straight back afterwards.” _Give it straight back_? It was his helmet!

She watched him suspiciously, and he could almost hear the thoughts in her head. She was probably wondering what he was planning. Probably wondering why he had ignored her critique of him to demand she return the helmet. Probably wondering whether she had taken it too far.

Maybe it was guilt that made her gesture towards her bag, which she had deposited beside the door of his bedroom.

“It’s in there,” she said. Then she frowned at the bedsheets. “Promise you’ll give it back afterwards? I still want to use it. For…things.”

He squeezed her hand. “I promise,” he said, and when she met his eyes, he couldn’t help but wonder what she saw. He saw everything he loved. He saw a wish, a desire, come true. He saw happiness in a person—comfort and love and frustration and beauty. What did she see when she looked at him? Did she only ever see his flaws, his cowardice, or was there something more? Would she ever return his feelings? Or did he have to continue in his failing quest to love from afar? “You can trust me.”

“I know,” she said, and the look on her face was one of puzzlement, as though she was confused by her own words. “I don’t know how, but I know. I’m a good judge of character.” She hesitated. “Except when it comes to men,” she added. “My exes were all assholes.”

Was that pointed? Or was she just trying to hint that if they were going to continue…whatever this was, he should be cautious and gentle and soft? He would be all of those things. His skin burned when she touched him, and his body betrayed him whenever she smirked at him, but he was so filled with gentleness. She was not a flower, not a bomb; she was not some delicate little thing in need of protection. But she was the love of his life. He wanted to treat her well. He wanted to make her feel as she made him feel.

“Are you hungry?” he asked suddenly.

She raised an eyebrow. “Hungry?” she repeated. “I mean…yeah, I guess.”

He got up off the bed, holding out a hand for her to take. She took it without even knowing what she was agreeing to, allowing him to pull her to her feet.

“Let’s go get breakfast then,” he said.

He hoped she saw the apology in his smile.

He hoped she could read him as well as he could read her.

 

~

 

Four hours later, Hades stood alone outside the throne room, his head covered by the comforting metal weight of his helmet. He had spent the morning trying to subtly convince Persephone that he knew what he was doing, treating her to a Moirai-free breakfast. They spoke about movies, which, as it turned out, Persephone was very passionate about. It was a good distraction, and gave Hades plenty of time to think through his rather impulsive plan. Persephone could talk for Olympus, and Hades didn’t need to contribute much to the conversation—he could hide in his mind, soaking in what she said whilst nodding along and trying to figure out how the hell this was going to work.

Now, having crossed the River Styx without trouble, Hades wasn’t sure how this was going to work. They were working against an impossible enemy. How did one stop creatures who could foresee every single thing that was going to happen?

Easy. By being insignificant enough to evade their notice.

Hades had spent all his life being insignificant and unseen, hiding in his home so much that humans went through ages of questioning his existence. Then again, hiding from mortals was one thing. Hiding from eternal, ancient creatures of pure apathy was another.

Just outside his throne room was Cerberus.

Hades’ heart sped up at the sight of his eternal friend, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Cerberus, larger than any mortal building, towered above him like a giant above a man. His three giant heads drooped, his ears like melted tar on the floor. He looked so sad. As though he was being kept there against his will.

Cerberus could not see through Hades’ disguise, so Hades didn’t have to worry about any excited licking and dangerous tail wagging. Still. He wanted to reach out and hug him, tell him everything was all right, that he’d save him from the Moirai. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that the only two reasons he was here at all was because Persephone had mocked him and Cerberus was sad. 

Behind Cerberus was the entrance to the throne room, which was right in front of the Plain of Judgement. Hades fought back a sigh. Of course the Moirai would want the throne room. Not only was it a usurpation of his power, but it meant they were close to their intended destination. In that moment, despite everything, Hades despised them.

He stepped carefully past Cerberus, hoping his shoes didn’t slam too heavily against the ground below him. The dog turned one of his heads, but apparently didn’t find anything interesting, because he went back to laying on the floor, staring into nothing and waiting for his master to return. Hades was so desperate to praise him, to fuss behind his huge ears and tap him carefully on his giant nose. Cerberus had always been his closest companion. It made him furious to see him pushed so far out of the picture.

It occurred to him that Persephone had not yet met him. Hades had fallen for her before she’d even passed his number one test: Cerberus. Anyone Cerberus didn’t like, man, woman or otherwise, came nowhere near Hades. It was a simple and unbreakable rule. Hades would have to introduce him to his beloved and just hope he liked her.

With as much caution as he could afford, Hades stepped around his dog’s ridiculously huge tail and carefully made his way to the gates, wincing when he looked up at them. He’d never had to worry about it before, but now that he was being secretive, it occurred to him that those gates were horribly loud and rusted. They would creak if he tried to open them, and he’d end up being dead or worse. So what did he do?

He looked up around the gates. The walls of his palace were huge and towering, but hadn’t been changed since the time of building, thousands of years ago. They were rocky, with various different stones and bricks jutting out. He thought back to what Persephone had said. He was a coward. She was right. He hid from every problem, big or small, and hoped it would pass without noticing him hiding in the shadows.

But this time, it was personal. The Moirai were threatening his position, his family, his dog and his potential lover. They were going to take everything from him, and they would laugh as he stood by and let it happen.

He scowled. He was not a coward—not at the moment. He would not prove Persephone right.

Hades took a deep breath and began to climb the wall.

It took a while. He wasn’t exactly a professional climber and trying to push himself up to different hand and footholds was difficult to say the least. He slipped a number of times and had to thank everything in the universe that Cerberus, despite being a giant dog with six giant ears, had terrible hearing. He only hoped the Moirai were too busy to hear his muttered swearing as he struggled up the wall.

When he was at the top, he took a moment to sit on the wall. This would be a good vantage point. He could see everything from here—even the Plain of Judgement, mere miles away. Everything—including them.

The Moirai were all standing, their backs to Hades, staring at his throne. And oh, did the sight of his throne make his heart twist, whether in anger or nostalgia, he was not sure. How he longed to be back there again. He was not a huge fan of power or control, but knowledge was something else. He craved all wisdom. He wanted to know everything that went on in the Underworld, and if he ruled it from a logical stance, in a seat made of obsidian, he would never be ignorant. Seeing his throne there, empty, was not just annoying—it was symbolic. Hades was so ignorant now, so unaware of his own domain. The Moirai did not watch over it. It felt like he had lost control over his entire life, not just his realm, and the feeling made his gut wrench.

From this distance, a normal person would be able to hear nothing. Hades, however, was not just a god—he was the God of the Underworld. Despite the vacancy in his throne, despite his Underworld being taken over by fools who knew too much, Hades was in his element. If he wanted to hear, the Underworld bent to his will, the shadows carrying the voices of the Moirai all the way to his listening ears.

They were discussing Persephone, which surprised him.

“…not as if the Kore girl will know,” one was saying. It sounded like the voice belonged to Lakhesis, but from this distance, Hades could not be sure. “We know exactly how this will end, but she is as ignorant as they come. She has no idea.”

“She will know,” another hissed. “When the time arises, she will know what to do.”

“And so we should test her,” Lakhesis answered. “We should see how far she is willing to go. She is a feisty one, that little brat—whether she sees it coming or not, it will be amusing to see just how much of her fire is a mask.”

They went quiet for a moment. Then, a third voice—that one definitely belonged to Atropos—sounded up:

“Everything about that girl is a mask. She will see nothing.”

“Themis managed to possess her,” Lakhesis said. “You know what that means.”

“Themis also possessed Apollo,” Atropos answered. 

“And it almost killed them both. You saw his mind—you saw how she had changed him. He is only half himself.”

“And Kore is not?”

“She is herself, through and through. The oracle did not affect her as it did Apollo. As it should. There is something to be weary of with that girl.”

“She is not a prophetess.”

“I am not suggesting she is,” Atropos said, her voice so bland and emotionless, it was almost boring to listen to. “I am suggesting that she knows what she is doing. Deep down.”

“Deep down, she is a little girl,” said Lakhesis.

“Deep down, she is a tigress,” said Atropos, “defending a mate she does not yet know.”

Hades’ heart jumped in his chest. He should probably be considering what they were saying about Persephone in more detail, but his mind got stuck on the word ‘mate’. Was his love for her one-sided, or were Hecate’s prophecies accurate, after all? Was Persephone meant to be at his side, or was it wishful thinking? Nothing happened by chance; the Moirai themselves had taught him that. But Aphrodite’s arrow often caught the wrong people.

_She knows what she is doing._

_She does not yet know._

What did it all mean? What were they suggesting here? And why did it send shivers down Hades’ spine?

“We must begin judgement, else the gods will grow suspicious,” the third voice, Clotho, cut in, dragging Hades away from his thoughts. “We have not got the time for dallying. For meddling. We need to get through all of this as fast as possible and dispose of the diseased.”

Diseased? What did she mean? None of the gods were diseased. Gods couldn’t even get diseased. Unless they could. Unless Hades knew far less than he thought he did. Unless every single one of the gods had been living a lie for thousands upon thousands of years.

Which was beginning to look more likely by the second.

“It will not be easy,” Atropos warned. “The Titans are no easy prey.”

Ah, of course. They were after the Titans. It made sense. The Titans were waking, and the Moirai were here after years of silence. They couldn’t be disconnected instances. That was a ridiculous notion.

“Neither are the gods,” said Lakhesis.

So was that.

“Now, really, sisters,” Clotho murmured, “they are both easy prey if you know their weaknesses. And we know all. It is a simple idea. We pit them against each other, they kill each other, and we have nothing left to do. If the gods win, we will cleanse them. And if the Titans win, we will destroy them. It will not be difficult.”

“Times have changed,” Atropos reasoned. “It will not be so easy. The gods have nothing left to defend; the Titans have no age left to claim. This will not be like last time.”

“That is what mortals think. People do not learn from history, whether they be mortals or gods. The truth lies in acceptance: the cycle will continue until there is nothing left to be destroyed. We exist in a deadly system. There is no escaping it. You know that.”

“There is a way to escape it,” Lakhesis said. “You all know.”

Hades watched them with newfound interest as they started moving away from each other, staring at each other as though they were all shocked by the suggestion. They still hadn’t turned; Hades could only see their backs.

“No,” said Clotho. “Absolutely not.”

“We will wait for Kore,” Atropos said. “She is our first plan.”

“And when that falls through?” challenged Lakhesis. “What then? We need time on our side. We do not have it. And what is stopping us?”

“They are our sisters,” Clotho growled. It was the first time Hades had ever heard emotion in her voice. “We cannot kill the Horai.”

Hades raised an eyebrow. He was not really in on the politics between the Moirai and their sisters—they were pure opposites, he knew, and didn’t often get on well. The Moirai tended to side with Zeus, whilst the Horai sided with Themis. And yet, despite their differences and fallouts, it didn’t seem likely that either side would consider flat-out murder. Even the Moirai themselves were shocked by such a suggestion, which was very interesting indeed.

They didn’t care about killing the gods and Titans. That was just business. But killing their sisters? That was a whole other story.

Hades made a mental note to ask Persephone to tell him more about the Horai. If the Moirai were planning something drastic against them the Horai were definitely their allies. A friend of my enemy is my friend, and all that.

“We will not have to,” Atropos said, and despite being unable to see her, Hades knew she was glowering at Lakhesis. “We will not at all. Kore is stronger than she seems. We can use her to our advantage. Everything will be all right.”

“Nothing is ever all right,” said Lakhesis. “We need time.”

“And we will have it,” said Atropos. “We will take it. But not through murder. We are above such things.”

Hades almost snorted, but managed to restrain himself just in time. Killing gods and Titans was a purge. Killing the Horai was murder.

_Sure_ , he thought. _Whatever helps you sleep at night._

_Bastards._

“This will all go wrong,” said Lakhesis. “You will both see. I am never wrong.”

“Neither am I,” said Atropos.

“You cannot both be right,” said Clotho.

“You’re wrong,” said Atropos.

Hades imagined that Clotho was going to reply, but before she could, a loud and familiar sound flooded the room. Before anyone could do a single thing, the gates burst open, the walls shaking.

With a gasp, Hades lost his balance on the wall. He fell so fast and so hard, he barely had time to register that his helmet had fallen off his head, revealing him, before his head was slammed into the ground. He gasped again. His vision was filled with black spots. He could see absolutely nothing at all. Unusual pain, which he should not be able to feel as a god, flooded his head. It was as though someone had started trying to drag his skull out of his head with their bare hands. He was vacantly aware of a low whine coming from deep in his throat.

When the shaking finally stopped, Hades had to take several moments to catch his breath. His vision continued to swim. His head continued to burn with pain. He was unable to lift his head, and his body refused to allow him any movement at all. Had he broken every bone in his body? How was that even possible?

It was as though he was having an out-of-body experience, because somehow, he remained aware of what was happening despite the disappearance of his senses.

Somebody was walking through the gates, which Cerberus—the source of the loud noise—had clearly torn down. Somehow, Hades managed to see without his vision. It was a trio of women, young and beautiful. Like the Fates, they were masks, but their masks were beautiful and unearthly, with intricate golden patterns painted on the surfaces. The red lips were painted into smiles, and the eyes were soft and round.

Hades didn’t even need to question who they were, though he did have to question their impeccable timing. 

“Just try and kill us,” a melodic voice seemed to drift towards him. “We will not see you destroy all that we have built. Take time from us and you will suffer the consequences.”

"I thought you told Charon to keep watch," Clotho said, presumably addressing one of her sisters.

"Charon is nowhere near powerful enough to stop us," the voice said. "You know that. You have grown old."

“You are making a mistake,” Atropos hissed. “A huge, huge mistake.”

“We are preventing _your_ mistake,” said the voice. Hades realised it wasn’t one voice at all, but three. They were all speaking at the same time. “You see all, you know all, but you feel nothing. We do not need foresight or prophecy; we need the here and now. We need cycles of spring and winter. We need life.”

“Don’t do this,” Clotho gasped. “You’ll regret it.”

“And we are willing to live with that regret,” answered the Horai. 

And despite having no eyes, Hades could somehow see them click their fingers in perfect unison.

And despite having no senses, he could feel the world collapse around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm actually still alive. I know, right? I'm surprised too.  
> I'm sorry again for the sudden disappearance. Personal issues have gotten worse (guess who did a Persephone and failed one of her modules? Ya boi), I've been ill, and despite having written out a plan, I still managed to get writer's block. Great, huh? The good news is, I'm all better now and I'm pretty excited about where this story is going.
> 
> This is a pretty big change to the fic, right? I think so. I'm not sure though. I do know where this is going, despite this plot point being completely unplanned. This chapter was written over a course of several days, so I'm sorry if it's a bit messy and difficult to read. Not much Persephone in this chapter, either, which I'm sorry for. 
> 
> What do you think? How's the pacing so far? Are you a bit taken aback by the sudden abundance of new characters or is it good? Please let me know! And thank you so, so much for the hits, kudos and comments! If it wasn't for you guys, I probably wouldn't continue with this fic; your support keeps me going!! <3


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Cornelius Fudge voice* She's back!
> 
> Hey, guys, long time no see! I am so, so sorry for my absence--I definitely didn't plan on it being this long, and I definitely should have told you guys what was happening. To cut a long and sad story short, there was a death in the family. It was someone I was very close to, and it basically triggered a horrible mental shitstorm and I wasn't really up to writing for a while. I don't really want to go into too much detail, but that's the reason I was away. I am really, really sorry, and I hope that you can understand. 
> 
> Thank you all so, so much for being so patient and sticking with the story. The support this story has received has gobsmacked me, and I am so, so grateful to you all for being such amazing people and actually reading! I can't believe this tiny mythology fic has actually garnered so much attention. It's ridiculous. I love you all. <3
> 
> I'm going to shut up now. I hope you enjoy this chapter, even if it is slightly messy.

Ringing. It was the first thing Hades could hear in the darkness: a shrill, grating noise that seemed to crawl right into his ears and shatter his eardrums. He felt it throughout his whole body; he felt out of control, like he couldn’t possibly escape something. The ringing made his vision black, made his heart race in a deafening warning. 

_Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong._

Covering his hands with his ears, Hades forced his body to obey his mind, and just about managed to sit up. His vision refused to come back to him; he was still completely surrounded by darkness, and the ringing wasn’t letting up. But he had more than two senses. And he was a god, for fuck’s sake. He wasn’t letting some loud noises and darkness render him powerless and pitiful.

_Focus._

He was sitting on the ground—hard, cold and smooth beneath him, the same texture as the black marble of his palace floors. It was probable that he hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen from the wall. Right. Still being in the throne room was probably good news. Probably. Maybe. It also meant that if he was here, so were the Moirai and Horai, which was definitely not good news. But hey, he’d burn that bridge when he got to it.

He could smell saltwater, which was a bit more problematic. There was no sea in the Underworld. Sure, there were rivers aplenty, so many that even Hades often forgot their names, but those rivers were rivers of death and loss and misery, not jellyfish and sharks. They smelled of nothing and sounded like screaming and weeping from the souls who refused to accept the fact that they were not going back to their worldly bodies. So, saltwater was strange. Perhaps he wasn’t in his palace after all. Being magically transported somewhere else would not be the strangest thing that had ever happened to him.

So he was on marble floor in a place that reeked of seaweed. He still couldn’t see, and the ringing in his ears was not letting up. This mini investigation had proven completely useless.

Hissing in frustration, Hades tried to think. It was almost impossible to think clearly when his nerves were on fire, when he had lost two senses.

Okay. So the Horai had arrived. They’d done something. The Moirai had clearly not expected them. Now Hades was here, wherever here was, confused and dazed.

Persephone was still in his home, probably wondering what had happened. By this point, she had probably already gone investigating. Maybe she’d even followed him to the throne room in the first place. She was a curious, plucky little thing, and in any other circumstances, Hades would probably find her both irritating and confusing. As it were, he could only hope she hadn’t gone looking for him, and was safe and sound with Hecate, or even Thanatos. One of them would find her. They were all safe. It was just Hades who was in trouble, and that was too familiar for him to be too bothered.

Hades gave a sigh, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

The ringing continued.

At first, he was just so frustrated he could have cried. Then he realised that the ringing was not inside his head. It wasn’t tinnitus. 

He removed his hands from his ears, wincing when the sound multiplied. It was unbearable; he thought he’d collapse, thought he would scream. He thought he probably did, but he wouldn’t be able to hear it through all the noise. It was horrible, like a million voices screaming all at once, shouting right in his face. He tried to put his hands back over his ears again, but it was no use; the ringing just got louder, going right through his hands. Before he knew it, he had, indeed, collapsed on the ground, curling up protectively and hoping it would all go away.

“Please stop,” he managed to get out. “Just stop. Just…”

He hissed, forcing himself to sit back up again.

“Shut up!” he shouted. “I know someone’s doing this! And if it continues, I swear on the River Styx, I’ll find every single person you’ve ever loved and make you eat their charred corpses!”

And just like that, it stopped.

He blinked rapidly, staring around him. He hadn’t expected that to work. Sure, threats from the God of the Underworld scared mortals, but he severely doubted the person doing this was a mortal. Maybe they were just someone who was toying with him? Or maybe it was in his head, and his belief that it wasn’t had somehow prevented it from continuing?

Zeus, even he didn’t think he made sense.

“It feels strange, doesn’t it? Asking for help, after centuries of hiding from it.”

Hades frowned, looking around. The voice seemed to come from all around him. It was definitely female, and very familiar. It was a voice he dreamt of more than he would admit.

“Persephone?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Persephone answered. There was the sound of clicking fingers, and suddenly, Hades could see. His jaw dropped. “Yes, it’s odd, isn’t it? Like a fucked up jigsaw puzzle.”

He was in his palace, but he wasn’t. The floor, just as he’d suspected, was the black marble of his throne room. His throne sat behind him, as tall and proud as it had always been, only to his surprise, it was standing next to another, smaller throne, just as majestic with black carvings etched into the wood: carvings of flowers and pomegranates. There was no ceiling, none at all; the skies above the throne were those of the night, with the stars and moon as beautiful as they always had been. Hades turned back to what was in front of him, however, and everything was different.

Before him was the ocean. It explained the saltwater scent, but it didn’t explain why the ocean was in his throne room. And it certainly didn’t explain why the sky above the water was that of daytime, with a cloudless sun burning down like a scorching orange guardian, watching everyone who walked under its light. The floor in front of Hades wasn’t sand or rocks, though, and it wasn’t the floor of the palace, either; it was cobblestones, like the floor inside one of the mortal medieval castles. It was as though someone had taken three entirely different locations and smashed them together to make a bizarre Underworld-Modern-Ancient-Earth hybrid. 

Hades didn’t like surprises. He definitely didn’t like surprises involving him.

“Is it that surprising? Think of who you’re dealing with,” said Persephone.

Now that his sight was working, he saw her standing a few paces away from him. She looked just as different as she sounded. She looked older, somehow, more mature and regal, with her hair cascading in contained curls, and her eyes glittering with sly knowledge. She wasn’t wearing her normal clothes, either, but a long, black chiton with gold and red threaded carefully into the material. She didn’t look like a florist, or a naïve young girl. She looked like a queen.

“You’re…different,” he said, standing up. 

“Everything is different,” she answered wisely. “For example, I doubt you take the souls of the dead out for trips to the seaside. Sandcastles and death don’t really correlate.”

She had a point. 

He nodded slowly, staring around him with wide eyes. “Okay, what the fuck? What’s happened? To this place, to you, to me. What’s going on?”

“The Horai have been busy,” she said. “The Moirai were about to start another war by releasing the Titans and pitting them against the gods. Just like last time. They planned to destroy the Horai, take time out of the equation. You have all the time in the world if it doesn’t exist. So the Horai fought back, and now here we are. This is time—all of it. The past,” she nodded at the cobblestones, “the present,” she looked at the sea, “and the future,” she pointed at the two thrones, and then at herself.

“You?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the present.”

“I am the future,” she corrected. “Your Persephone.”

“I already have Persephone.”

“You have Kore. Call her what you like; it’s the truth. I’m Persephone. I’m the Queen of the Dead and the Goddess of the Underworld. And the Horai have created me to guide you towards me.”

He stared at her. “Um…what?”

“Not _me_ ,” she sighed. “Me. The Persephone from your time. You need her to fix this.”

Hades continued to stare. He believed her about the Moirai’s plans; he’d heard them himself, just hours ago. But to say that Persephone was the only one who could fix this? That sounded ridiculous. He was in love with his tigress, but she was just a spirited girl who constantly made the mistake of biting off more than she could chew. She wasn’t going to be able to fix something as huge as this.

But…the Moirai had said something about her, about her knowing, deep down. But knowing what? That was the question.

“So everyone is here?” Hades asked. “Like me?”

“No,” Persephone answered. “Just you and Persephone. You are very interesting, you know. You make a beautiful story. Winter walks through his dark halls, yearning for warmth and light, whilst Summer skips through long grasses, dreaming of the dark and cold. They live in different worlds, separate to each other, held back by their own demons. But Winter cannot live without Summer; his flowers are wilting, his heart is ice, and Summer needs a bit of rain to flourish. The Horai have connected you both through the lack of time, through this world of all time. The Moirai need an ultimatum. Winter and Summer can provide it. Two worlds coming together. It’s everything we need, and more.”

Hades sighed, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. “Okay, let me get this straight. The Horai think that by forcing Persephone and I together, they’ll win. But I don’t understand how that correlates. If anyone wins, it’s Aphrodite, surely.”

“You misunderstand me,” Persephone said. “It’s not about you. It’s not even about me. All of this is about the balance.”

“Balance.”

“Precisely. The Moirai are starting a war, another one, to kill one off: Titans or gods. But the solution isn’t extinction: it’s balance. And nobody represents that balance more than the Goddess of Spring and Death. Persephone is the ultimatum. She is between worlds already, even as she is now: she has tasted darkness, tasted you, and she wants more, so much more. But she is from the land of sun and flowers. She is between life and death, hope and misery, warmth and cold. She is the end and the beginning. And she is powerful, far more powerful than she knows. She can stop the Moirai, but you have to convince her. You have to unlock the ultimatum within her.”

“Right,” said Hades. He sighed again. He was beginning to get a headache. “A valiant quest to get someone to save the day. Sounds like a day in the life. How, exactly, do I ‘unlock the ultimatum’, then?”

Persephone smiled. “You make her realise who she really is.”

Who she really was? Hades was pretty sure she already knew who she was. Something about this situation was making him suspicious. He almost wondered whether the Horai had sent this future Persephone here at all, or whether it was someone else trying to toy with him.

It was hard to stare at this woman, knowing her but not knowing her. It was almost as difficult as it was being around her in his time, when he knew he loved her, when he felt that she never would reciprocate his feelings. How could she? His feelings came from an arrow. He was older than her, more powerful than her—it was an unfair power balance, one that would by all probability put her off. He hated it, hated being that close but so far away. And it was even worse now, when he felt just as alone as he had for centuries before meeting Persephone.

“And who’s that?” Hades asked.

“If you love me enough,” Persephone murmured, “you’ll find out.”

She turned, and was already starting to walk away. Hades immediately started to panic. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t understand what she meant. 

“Wait!” he called.

She paused, turning to glance at him with a knowing smile on her face. “Yes?”

He wanted to ask what to do, where to go, how to convince her past self that this was her future. He wanted to know why he’d been chosen to do this, why Persephone was so important, what the Moirai were planning.

But the words that came out of his mouth weren’t any of these questions. The words that came out of his mouth were, “Are you happy?”

Future-Persephone raised an eyebrow, but her eyes told him she understood. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

“In the future,” Hades tried again. “Are you happy in the future?”

_Are you happy with me?_

Persephone gave him a dazzling smile. There was something terrifying in it; something thrilling. “I can’t tell you everything, now, can I?” she asked, winking. And then she turned and walked away, hips swaying and hair flowing in the seaside breeze. She vanished within moments, gone in a storm of sand and shells and leaving him alone, confused, and unsure of what he was supposed to make of it. Of her.

Hades closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He supposed he’d better go and find Persephone, then. And help her become whatever she was “meant” to be.  
He missed the Underworld already.

 

—

 

Persephone woke up in the middle of nowhere, covered in tiny, grainy little rocks. There was no pain; it was nothing like Hades. Her eyes flashed open and she was awake: it was as simple as that. She wasn’t awake in the Underworld, or at least, it didn’t look like the Underworld. She was awake in sunlight, with what felt bizarrely like waves lapping at her head. The ground beneath her was soft, and if she moved even the slightest bit, she would feel like she was slipping, as though the ground was trying to swallow her whole.

She sat up, wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm, and blinked when she realised her hands were covered in sand. Wait, sand? There was no sand in the Underworld. There was no sand at home, either. In fact, everywhere she ever went, there was never any sand.

Maybe she was dreaming? It would make sense. She had been having such weird dreams lately, usually revolving around herself and Hades in some sort of burning room. They were all vivid, so strange, and she’d wake up every time with the taste of pomegranates on her tongue. She hadn’t told anyone about it, simply because it was a weird thing to talk about. But they were there. And now, she was in another dream, presumably. And if she was in one of her weird vivid dreams, that meant Hades was here somewhere. Maybe he could wake her up.

She got up, looking around her and trying not to feel too disorientated. She was on a beach, as she’d suspected. The waves that had been lapping at her were from the sea, which had successfully wet her dark hair, giving it a seaside salt smell and flattening it against her forehead. Fucking hell, she thought. Now it was going to frizz up, and her dreams didn’t usually offer combs or other hair products.

Persephone looked down at herself, blinking rapidly when she realised that even her clothes had changed. No longer was she wearing her usual jeans and sneakers, but a long chiton that looked like it belonged in the time of the ancients. Persephone hated dresses of all kinds, but this was just taking the piss. How long were these bloody things? How was she even supposed to move in it? Goddamn it. This dream wasn’t being very kind to her thus far.

She turned away from the sea, searching for some sort of way out of this weird beachy place. And then stopped. Okay, no. This was no normal dream. It was as though she was standing, not just in the present, but the present, past and future all at once. As though she had been placed in some sort of terrifying alternate reality. Now, Persephone had a pretty good imagination. She was young and clever and fierce; she could imagine anything from a flower to a dragon. But this? This was beyond even her brain. She realised with a sudden sense of clarity that this was probably not a dream.

Surprisingly, this revelation didn’t scare her. She was prepared to be terrified, curled up in a ball on the beach shore and hoping if she closed her eyes, it would all go away. But she didn’t react like that. In fact, she felt a wave of rationality come over her like a steady stream of realisation. Yes, okay, this was probably not a dream. But that didn’t mean it was a bad situation.

It did mean, however, that all the events leading up to this place were real, too.

She couldn’t remember much. Just that she had been standing with Hecate, talking about college and Demeter as though they’d always been the best of friends. Hecate was easy, laidback and clever, and when Hades didn’t return from wherever he’d gone, she had been the first to say, “That giant idiot is up to something stupid again.” Persephone could remember going back with Hecate, looking for him. She could remember there being a huge, blinding flash of light. And she could remember falling to the ground with a thud, hearing something that sounded suspiciously like a man crying out in pain. 

Now she was here. It made sense that it wasn’t a dream. That light—it could have been magical, mythical, whatever. It could be Zeus meddling. It could be Demeter meddling.

It could be the Fates meddling, but Persephone would rather not think of that.

She looked around her again. Okay, so she was someplace else. Not the Underworld, not a dream. And she was standing alone on a beach.

Mission #1: Find someone else. 

She had been with Hecate when it had happened, and so it was likely that Hecate was around here somewhere. Persephone would search for her, and then she’d get her answers. And then, hopefully, she made it home. Despite their differences, she found herself missing her mother. And that was very scary indeed.

She bunched up her skirts in her hands—seriously, who had thought it was a good idea to put her in a chiton like some wayward ancient Greek woman?—and started walking. She winced when she felt her sandals—because even her beloved, worn sneakers had been replaced—filling up with sand. Persephone was not a beach sort of girl. In fact, she had spent all of her life in fields of grass and flowers. She liked things that could grow, liked the feeling of soil, liked the smell of plants after rainfall. She liked things to be alive. But sand? Sand was just rock. What was she meant to do with rock? She was the Goddess of Spring, not the Goddess of Fossilised Dinosaur Shit.

Shaking herself out of her own thoughts, Persephone continued walking. She could hardly stand around thinking about dinosaur faeces all day, could she? She had to find someone out here, and to do that, she needed to move. So move she did. She walked across the sand, trying to find some pleasure in it as she did so, until she reached the marble floors in front of her. She didn’t find it strange that there were random marble floors on a beach. She had seen far weirder things recently, and she was getting tired of being surprised. It did look suspiciously like the floor of Hades’ palace, but that was just ridiculous. She was no longer in the Underworld; the beach proved that much. 

Still. Persephone was a curious young woman, and if Hecate was going to be anywhere, it would probably be in the huge rocky formations now surrounding her. So Persephone decided to look around.

The arches above her looked like they had come from ancient temples, or what remained of them now in the modern world. The columns were crumbling and cracked, but they were so still, she found that she wasn’t afraid of them collapsing. What was left of the walls was marble, just like the floor, with beautiful carvings of various scenes. Persephone ran her hand over a few of the scenes that were still intatct, scanning them. There was a picture of a minotaur sitting on a throne, and a picture of a woman in the sea. There was a picture of Hercules scowling up at a three-headed-dog, probably Cerberus. There was a picture of the three main gods, the brothers. This was the one that made Persephone pause.

Whoever had carved this was clearly working hard to capture the gods as they wanted to be captured. In this picture, Zeus looked far larger and more imposing than he did in person. His beard was long and magnificent, his face drawn into a commanding scowl as he pointed at the podium in front of him. On the podium was a bowl of some kind, but as it was a carving, Persephone had no idea what was inside it. It must be important, however, because Zeus, Poseidon and Hades were all staring, frowning, down at it. Poseidon looked so much younger, handsome and wild, his hair as untameable in the ocean even in the carving. Hades had his face covered by his Helm, but his hair had been carved to be long and flowing, and the black robes covered any remaining distinguishing features. In fact, if it wasn’t for the clear likeness of Zeus and Poseidon, Persephone would have no idea that the man was meant to be Hades. And she’d kissed Hades.

“I always hated that carving,” came a voice from behind her.

Persephone turned, blinked. And blinked again.

Hades was standing there, looking weirdly out of place. He looked like…well, he looked like a tired old god who was sick of everything going wrong. His eyes were drooping, his hair uncharacteristically messy in his face. The lines around his eyes seemed deeper. His shoulders were hunched. He looked unbelievably sad, as though he’d just been told that his whole family had been murdered. Or his dog. Persephone wasn’t sure which he liked more.

“Not nice being in the background, is it?” she asked, trying not to feel bitter that he got to keep his nice, modern clothes and comfy shoes whilst she was stuck in a bedsheet and straps. 

He shrugged. “I’m used to it.” He smiled at her, immediately changing the subject. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was a bit worried—I wasn’t sure if you were here or back in the Underworld or…”

“You disappeared,” she interrupted. She crossed her arms, hoping that she looked just as threatening and angry as her mother whenever Persephone tried to sneak back into the house from parties at 3AM. 

Hades coughed awkwardly. “Yes.”

“Where did you go?”

He muttered something, so quietly and guiltily that she didn’t hear him.

She scowled. “I can’t hear you.”

He hung his head. The tips of his ears were red, sticking up out of his pale blond hair. “I may have gone to face the Moirai…with the Helm.”

Fire burned inside her. She couldn’t believe it. After the amount of arguing they’d done over this subject, after the amount of lectures she’d been forced to withstand because she was being naïve and ignorant if she thought going after the Moirai with nothing but a Helm of Invisibility was a good idea. He’d gone and done it himself. Him. He was supposed to be the responsible one. He was the elder brother of the King of the Gods. He had spent centuries ruling the Underworld. And yet, he had gone behind her back to do something ridiculously irresponsible, something that had probably gotten them into this mess.

How was it that the Lord of Death and King of the Underworld could act like a fifteen-year-old mortal boy?

“Fucking bastard,” hissed Persephone.

Hades didn’t look at her. Instead, he stared at the floor as though hoping it would swallow him up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Hell no you shouldn’t.”

“But I…I wanted to do something. And maybe I did like your idea.”  
“The idea you fought against because it was stupid?” she demanded. “Because I was acting like a little girl for considering it?”

He looked up, meeting her eyes steadily. “I told you not to do it because I knew it wouldn’t be safe, and I didn’t want you getting into that situation.”

“Why the hell not?” she demanded. “Do you have attachment issues? We barely know each other!”

“That’s not true and you know it,” he hissed. 

She blinked. She hadn’t expected him to say that. She had expected him to go on a rant about how she was right, but the responsible thing was to make sure she didn’t put herself in danger, seeing as she was so young and a minor god and had a murderous mother who would probably stop every plant in existence from growing if her daughter disappeared for a day.

“What?” she asked.

But he seemed to lose his nerve. He looked away from her again, crossing his own arms as though trying to defend himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve said I’m sorry, I’ve given you my reasons, and now we’re going to stop talking about it.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me,” he said calmly. Calmly, but with enough force to make her second guess everything. Sometimes, she forgot who she was dealing with. And as soppy as he could be around her, his identity wasn’t going to change anytime soon. “We need to get out of here, and I don’t have time to waste arguing with you.”

A part of her agreed with him. Another part of her really wanted to hit him for that comment, for even daring to try and tell her, in other words, to shut up. 

_Dickhead_ , she thought. 

"You're telling me to shut up now?" she demanded. 

"Maybe I am," he snapped. "Because, in case you haven't noticed, we're trapped in a weird, timeless world, we're the only ones here, and I can hardly focus on finding a way of getting us both out of here with a fly buzzing in my ear because she's upset I did something to help her!"

"A fly?" she snarled. Suddenly, all she could see was red. "Did you just call me a _fly_?!"

Apparently no longer in the mood to listen to her, he just turned away, held his head up high, and said, "I'm not listening." As if he was a three-year-old boy and not an ancient god.

"Are you kidding me?" she hissed.

"Not listening," he said again.

The urge to hit him was growing by the second. How dare he? He had just called her a fucking fly. A fly. As if she was useless, annoying noise he couldn't quite shake off him. He was insinuating that she was more of an annoyance than an asset, whilst moping about her, giving her sad puppy dog eyes, staring at her like she was the sun, moon and stars. He was a fraud and an idiot and a dickhead and she wanted to scream in frustration.

Instead, her anger turned cold.

“Now who’s the child?” she demanded, glowering at him with all the fury in the world.

He flinched. Apparently, that hit close to home. 

"You think I'm so useless?" she asked. "You think I'm just a fly, annoying you? Well, fine. Why don't you figure this all out by yourself."

And without even thinking about it, she began to storm away. She planned to walk out of the stone structure, back to the beach. From there, she would make a new plan. One that involved her and her alone.

She was already halfway out of the palace when she heard Hades cry, "Persephone, wait!"

Against her better judgement, she stopped. She didn't look at him. She was too angry for that.

"Persephone. Don't go. I didn't mean any of that. It's my fault, all of this. Just please don't go."

She sighed. "You're acting like a kid."

"I know," he said. "I know. I'm sorry. I just...gods, I sound like my father, don't I?"

"I wouldn't know," she said coolly. "I'm _too young_ to understand references to Titans."

She felt rather than saw him flinch. Something made her turn to face him, and she found no anger in his face--just exhaustion and regret. He looked like a puppy dog, staring at her and blinking, his eyes wide and even hurt.

“I’m sorry, Persephone. I’m just very frustrated and very confused and…and I had a run-in with someone from my…um…future.”

"That's no excuse."

"I know. I know, damn it, I know, I just..." He bowed his head, raking another hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot."

"Yeah," she agreed.

"A huge idiot."

"Massive."

There was a pause. They looked at each other, both scanning each other for signs of what to say next, of what to do, of how they were going to get over themselves and just sort their shit out.

Hades said, "I'm sorry" again.

And this time, Persephone decided not to ignore it. “It’s okay,” she said. “I forgive you. For now. But stop being a hypocritical moron, okay?”

He nodded, eyes brightening. That could have turned into a horrible argument. Persephone wasn’t really sure whether she was in the mood for yelling at the God of the Underworld.

"Okay," he said.

"Instead of shouting at each other," she said, "we should be working out what the hell this place is and how we get out if it." She glanced around her, frowning. It didn't feel odd to change the subject so quickly. She wasn't the sort to dwell on things, or to hold grudges. One petty argument wasn't going to make her forget their situation.

She saw him shifting from the corner of her eye, and faced him again. He was hopping from leg to leg, looking at anything but her. He was so full of nervous energy, she couldn’t help feeling suspicious.

“What?” she demanded, narrowing her eyes.

“Well. Um. I may already know the answer to both those questions.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Go on.”

“About that. Um. Well. You know a minute ago I said I had a run-in with someone from my future?”

Her heart fluttered. Something was wrong. She could feel it, right in her gut.

“Yeah?” she said slowly, carefully watching him.

“Well.” He cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “It may have been you,” he said.

Her eyes widened. 

“Oh,” she said. 

Why were things never simple?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consistent characterisation is hard. 
> 
> So, what do you think? Slightly messy, slightly rushed? This feels like a very weak chapter to me, but that may be because I wrote it in pieces--a paragraph here, a sentence there, etc. Hopefully the next chapter will seem stronger.
> 
> I know there wasn't much H/P interaction in this chapter, but since they're stuck together in, um, let's call it the Inbetween, there is a lot more to come. It's about to get sappy and plotty, guys. Brace yourselves.
> 
> Quick note before I go away (not for 2+ months this time): I'm going to have an actual schedule now. I'm going to try and upload on Wednesdays each week (including this one, since you've been so patient). So stay tuned!


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Hecate didn’t wake up, or at least, she didn’t wake up in the traditional sense. One second, she was passed out on the floor, and the next, she was completely conscious and aware, standing in the throne room. She blinked away her surprise. Even gods couldn’t teleport in their sleep. The Moirai weren’t just changing the rules; they were changing the whole game.

She looked around her, frowning. The throne room looked the same as it always did: cold marble and stone, drab colours of black and grey. Hecate hated the throne room, and always had. Everyone who wasn’t Hades got a truly confusing experience here. Whenever anyone tried to look at it closely, trying to distinguish any specific details to remember, they would be unable to. They would see those details, they would view it closely, but everything would slip away from their head like a memory wipe. It was frustrating and disorientating, and Hecate was always reminded of the very first time she’d ever come to the Underworld. Hades had come to her on Olympus for some advice about the future—something to do with a war, though she really couldn’t remember now—and she had gone to the Underworld with his answer. The experience had been so offputting, she had felt dizzy for weeks afterwards. And now, look at her. She spent half of her life here. 

And the reason for that was sprawled out on the floor. 

Hecate half-screamed.

“Hades!” she gasped, rushing across the room towards him. She noticed nothing else, caring about nothing but him as she fell to her knees beside him. 

He was lying on the ground, his head unnaturally lolling to the side. His arms were spread out and reaching, but for what, Hecate did not know. His blond hair was caked in what looked like blood, the red staining the flaxen strands in a horrifying show of gore. He was unmoving, eyes closed and face pale. His eyelids were a horrible purple colour, as though he’d been punched several times. There were scratches on his face. He looked like a fallen angel, lips parted in a silent, unheard song.

Hecate let out another scream, covering her mouth with shaking hands. 

“No,” she gasped, voice muffled. “No, no, no, no. Please, no. Hades?”

She uncovered her mouth, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. She tried not to be too rough—what if he was alive and she was hurting him? But eventually, her desperation won out. She shook him as roughly as she could, crying out at him to wake up, what was he doing, what was wrong, was everything okay? But he didn’t answer, and he didn’t open his eyes. He didn’t even breathe. She clicked her finger and a dagger appeared in her hand. She leaned over him, carefully placing it under his nose to check for breaths. But there were none. She put the knife away and pressed her fingers against his throat, hoping to feel a pulse. But there was nothing. 

Gods, like humans, died. They could be killed by other gods, and they could be killed by the Titans. They could be killed by the Moirai, if they decided their fate was to die. They could die when they were no longer needed, when their position on Olympus was no longer of any importance. But there was no reason for Hades’ death. He would always be needed to rule the underworld, and the Titans were locked up safely. No other god would kill him—not now, anyway. Which left only one option.

“He isn’t quite dead yet,” a cold, unemotional voice came from behind her.

Hecate didn’t need to look to know that one of the Fates was talking to her. 

“You cannot kill someone without their soul,” said the Moirai. “I do not know where his is. All I know is that the Horai came and took it.”

Hecate blinked. The Horai? The Horai were here? Hades hadn’t even contacted them yet. Even Persephone had yet to reach out to them. 

As though reading her mind, the Fate behind her said, “Our mother sent them. She has her own plans.”

“And you? What are your plans?” Hecate demanded.

She tried to turn around to glare at them, but found that she was unable to. Apparently, the Moirai willed her to stay where she was. And if it was the Moirai’s will, it was impossible to go against it.

“Judgement,” said the Moirai.

“And this? This is what you call judgement? You’ve killed him,” Hecate spat. She was cradling Hades’ body, and his head lolled against her stomach. Without even thinking about it, she ran her fingers through his bloody hair, wishing he was awake so he could laugh at her for it, or blink at her uncertainly. Instead, he was as still and cold as the throne room itself. As the Underworld itself. It was as though he had become a part of it, and she wondered whether this would happen to all the gods. Whether they would just be absorbed into whatever they controlled. Would Zeus become another cloud in the sky? Would Hera become a gold ring? Would Persephone sink into the Earth, making flowers grow even in death?

“Like I said,” the Fate said calmly, “he isn’t dead. The Horai have his soul, and none between us know what they have done with it. His body remains here, for us to use as we will.”

“You’ve hurt him,” Hecate gasped. She realised that tears had begun flowing down her ghostly eyes. They spilled onto Hades’ face, making it look like he was the one weeping for all his lack of soul. “Why? What’s the point?”

“Because he is a nuisance, and if he had a soul, he would fail his judgement.”

“What do you even mean, judgement? What the hell is judgement?”

“It is proving who can and cannot withstand what is necessary.”

Hecate laughed, a short, humourless sound. “You’re speaking in riddles. You think that makes you scarier, cleverer? You’re wrong. You’re completely wrong. And wherever Hades’ soul is…it doesn’t matter. Because he’ll be back for his body, and then he’s going to burn you three to the ground.”

“Him and whose army?” chuckled the Fate, though their laughter was just as humourless and cold as Hecate’s had been just a moment before.

“Us,” said Hecate. “Persephone, Thanatos, Charon and I. You cannot just kill the gods of death. We’ll do whatever we can to stop you.”

“You can do nothing, and you will do nothing,” said the Fate. “You will understand. And you will stand back and allow us to do all we wish. You forget, witch, that you are nothing but an insect to us. We can crush you. And we will crush you if you stand in our way. So move, bug, and let us complete our mission.”

“No,” Hecate said. “No, you can’t—”

But before she could say anything more, she was transported somewhere else. It was like before: she was there one minute and gone the next. And when she was next aware of herself, she was lying on top of something, something moving. And when she felt it moving over her, she realised that she was in a river. One of the rivers of the Underworld.

The only question was, which one?

And was she about to lose herself as she had just lost Hades?

The water flowed, and Hecate with it. She refused to let this be an ending.

 

~

 

Hades and Persephone decided to walk. They didn’t know where they were going, and Hades had not yet explained where they actually were, so their walk was as aimless as it could be. Still, it was nice. Hades liked the feeling of the air on his face, relishing in the outdoors. He had spent so long locked away in his palace; it was nice to walk on grass, and to see flowers around him. This must be Persephone’s influence. Future Persephone’s influence. 

He didn’t know how to tell her. What would he say? The truth? The truth was ridiculous, and put way too much pressure on Persephone’s young shoulders. It wasn’t fair to burden her with fate and destiny. He had been all too young himself when his own destiny had come to attack him. He hadn’t known who he was when the Titan Wars took place. And Persephone was now having a similar identity crisis. He wanted to help her through it; he didn’t want to give her more problems. 

But they needed to get out of this alternate reality the Horai had made, and he knew the only way to do that was by making Persephone see “her true self”, whatever that meant. Could he do that without telling her? Could he steer her towards a personal revelation without much intervention? It sounded like a nicer way of doing it.

Hades almost didn’t want to leave. It was peaceful here, or it had been so far, and it was just him and Persephone. As they walked through a lovely meadow, he couldn’t help but look at her, watching her freckled cheeks dimple. He hadn’t missed the sunlight, because Persephone was all the sunlight he needed. She made his world brighter. He was starting to think that maybe, even if Aphrodite hadn’t intervened, he would have fallen as hard as anything. Persephone was the sort of girl who turned heads without knowing. She was the sort of girl who could make anyone and everyone fall in love with her with one smile.

Hades was a jealous man normally. With Aphrodite’s influence, he would probably turn into a monster at the first sign of this natural flirtation with other men. He liked it as it was: just them, just here, happy with each other and glad of the other’s company. 

He wished she loved him.

As he thought this, she spoke. 

“So you met my future self,” she said. “What was I like?”

“Beautiful,” he said without thinking. Immediately, he regretted it. She turned to face him, smirking at him. Maybe she wasn’t completely clueless, he thought. Maybe she was actually the sort of girl who turned heads and loved it. “I mean, um. Happy.”

“And I guess I gave you information, huh?” she prompted. “What did I say to you? You said I said something about what this place is and how to get out, right?”

“I did say that,” he said, severely regretting that stupid decision. She needed to figure this out herself. He didn’t want to be in the way of her fate. 

“And?” she poked.

He sighed. “And this place,” he said slowly, “is a…it’s an alternate reality created by the Horai. A mix of time. Past, present and future, all at once. It doesn’t follow the same rules as Olympus or the Underworld, because it’s the Horai’s rules, not the Moirai’s.”

“And they created it why?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. 

She nodded, thinking this through. He could practically see the cogs in her brilliant brain turning. Then she asked, “How do we get out?”

Here was the tricky part. He would need to lie if he wanted her to reach the conclusion herself. Only thing was, he had no idea what he should say or how. 

He decided to be partially honest.

“She just said it’s up to you,” he said. “It’s about you, all of this. The Horai are doing this for you.”

_For_ you, not _because of_ you. He thought it sounded less burdensome and more like some kind of test. Which might make her feel better. He didn’t know. 

She bit her lip, frowning down at the ground. He knew what she was thinking. She was wondering why, thinking back to all the times she’d met the Horai so that she could try and find some clues as to why they though it necessary to put her here. 

She must have come to a fast conclusion, because instead of freaking out or prompting him further, she simply held her head up high, smiled and said, “Okay then.”

Hades blinked at her. “Okay then?” he repeated.

“Yep,” she said. Then, “Can we stop for a minute?”

Of course, he agreed. The two of them both stopped walking. Persephone sat down right where she had been standing, looking perfect amongst the flowers and colours. The sun shone down on her, illuminating her dark frizzy mass of hair. It spilled down her like water, showing off every freckle, every line, every twinkle in her beautiful eyes. Her lips were parted slightly, breathing in the sweet release of fresh air. Hades had a sudden, uncontrollable urge to kiss her. They were trapped in a timeless reality whilst the Moirai wreaked havoc, and he was thinking of kissing her. But there was something so relaxing, so peaceful, about having no time. Time was a restraint of mortals, not gods, and yet they served it just as humans did. Gods and men were slaves to time, and time was an unforgiving mistress. Hades had had far too many years to think that through. And now, here, there were no years. There was nothing. Just them.

There was something romantic about it, he thought. Something unbelievably beautiful. Hades was not a romantic in any sense of the word—Minthe could write essays on that—but this place made him want to make flower crowns and make Persephone his queen in every way—mind, body and soul. His devotion to her seemed to grow and flourish more than the plants here. They had chosen a beautiful pocket of the alternate reality, and if they were stuck here for the rest of their days, Hades would not complain.  
He sat down with her, more so that he could be near to her than anything else. She closed her eyes, basking in the sun like a cat, and stretched out along the grass. She had pulled up her skirts—it was hot, he realised—and her legs looked longer and more slender than usual. Strands of grass brushed over her skin, casting tiny little shadows in the brown. Her hair dipped over her face, loose, curly strands. Her fingers were buried in the soil, her thumb idly running over the stem of a flower. 

She had never looked more like a goddess.

And Hades had never felt more in love.

“I like these moments best,” Persephone surprised him by saying. She didn’t open her eyes, but spoke as if they had never stopped talking. “The quiet ones we have, when we just sit and talk for a bit. They’re my favourite. I like talking to you.”

Hades didn’t know what to say, and so he said nothing at all.

“You’re interesting like that,” she continued. Her tone was so matter-of-fact and direct; it sounded more like a deadpan confession than a heartfelt one. “I think you’re ridiculously hot and I don’t think I’ll ever find anyone hotter, but I just like talking to you, too. You’re just so…I don’t know. Simple.”

He had never been called simple before, and perhaps it should be an insult. Coming from her, it was a sweet nothing.

“Simple?” he questioned.

“Yeah,” she said, and she opened one eye to look at him, searching for his response on his face. “You’re complicated but you’re not. It’s like I can just be myself with you. Is that weird?”

“No,” he said softly. “That’s not weird.”

“It is weird,” she said, leaning back so that she was completely lying down in the grass, lost in the green and yellow of the flowers. “It’s weird because I barely know you.”

“You do, though,” he said. “Knowing someone doesn’t always come with time.”

She watched him carefully. “Explain,” she said.

“I’ve lived a long time,” he said, as if she didn’t know that. “And I’ve had a lot of time to think about everything. About me, about my experiences, about the people I know. And I’ve come to the conclusion that sometimes, you don’t need months or years or centuries to find an answer. Sometimes, the answer is simple.”

She frowned, but did not interrupt.

“Love is complicated,” he said. “But it’s simple, too. And something I’ve come to realise over the years is that when something feels right, it usually is.”

She stared at him. “Love?” she repeated, her voice so quiet it was ridiculous.

He stared back at her. On one hand, it was far too soon from her perspective. On the other, he couldn’t help how he felt. But he didn’t want to scare her off.

He said, “For example.”

She continued to stare at him, and he knew she knew it was a bad excuse. But for some reason, she didn’t poke holes in his excuse. She let him have it. Maybe because she already knew he loved her, or maybe because she was afraid of what would happen if both of them admitted that. Maybe because she didn’t love him. Not yet, anyway.

She said, “Can I kiss you?” and it felt so ridiculously natural. 

He wondered what this meadow actually was. Wondered whether the Horai were toying with more than just Persephone accepting who she really was. Wondered whether the calm and peaceful feeling in the air was more than that. Was it magical? Was there something else going on here?

But before he could really think more on it, he found himself saying, “Yes.”

He let her approach him, not the other way around. She sat back up again, moved closer to him. And she surprised him. She didn’t kiss him on the lips as he’d expected. Instead, she picked up his hand in hers and pressed a tiny kiss in the centre of his palm. She released him, smiling at him with eyes that were both coy and innocent.

“We should keep moving,” she said quietly. 

He agreed. They definitely should. Because he was beginning to grow very suspicious of the yellow plants surrounding them. 

And so they moved. They got up and continued their walk, both pretending that nothing had happened, that everything was just as it had been in the Underworld. Simple. Hades found himself desperately wanting simple. He found himself desperately wanting quiet.

They walked and talked. They talked about their hopes, their dreams. They talked about their childhoods and they talked about their hopes for the future. And yet again, it felt so calm and peaceful, Hades almost wanted to suggest that they stay here forever. He would miss Hecate and Thanatos and maybe even Charon, of course, but he found it very difficult to think about them. In fact, his mind felt very cloudy whenever he even tried. When he tried to conjure an image of Hecate in his mind, he couldn’t quite remember what she looked like. He should be frightened or even surprised, but instead he just felt that persisting calmness. It felt almost like there was someone in his head, whispering to him every time he tried to think of home: _Don’t worry. This is home for now. Don’t you worry._

Persephone seemed to feel the same. She walked beside him, holding his hand and smiling, and there was no awkwardness, no tension. It felt domestic, as though this was the future, as though they were married and happy and comfortable. And that should feel alarming, but it just felt so right, so good. 

Hades couldn’t think.

Eventually, he forgot why they were here in the first place. It took a couple of hours at most before he found it difficult to imagine anywhere other than here. Other than these meadows, which never seemed to end, and the sun, which never seemed to wan as it bore down on them. Nothing mattered. He had Persephone and she had Hades and they were together. This was their home. He could not remember anything else.

He did not know why, and he did not think to ask.

Why question bliss?

 

As Hades thought of nothing, the Horai watched from the shadows.

It was time to release the secret weapon.

It was time to win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh. Things aren't going so well for Hecate. Meanwhile, Hades and Persephone are having a honeymoon before marriage or even I-love-yous. Did I mention that time is screwed where they are? 
> 
> So, what did you think? Did you like the chapter? Too slow, too fast? What are you hoping is going to happen?
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! <3 <3


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